


Sneezy with a Chance of Murder

by PicnicFanficnicAardvark



Category: Psych
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3290546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PicnicFanficnicAardvark/pseuds/PicnicFanficnicAardvark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn Spencer stumbles in to the Santa Barbara Police Department with a high fever, convinced he's just witnessed a brutal murder, but when there's no sign of a body, or a struggle, everybody believes he's delirious and has hallucinated the whole thing. When Shawn gets so much worse, is it his obsession with proving them wrong that's to blame...Or something much more sinister?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

  **Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any of it's characters.**

* * *

 

**1986**

**Detective Henry Spencer awoke to the terrified scream of his 9 year old son, "Shawn!" Reaching for his firearm out of habit, and flinging the cover over the left side of the bed (where his wife Madeleine should have been sleeping), he hurried out of his room and towards his sons.**

**When he reached his sons bedroom, he realised that the handgun might be a bit much, but he kept his finger poised on the trigger regardless. When he opened the door and switched on the light, he found his son sitting in a fetal position on his bed, with his cover wrapped around him, shaking, crying and coughing.**

**"Shawn?" Henry asked softly, taking his finger off the trigger, and putting it down out of Shawn's reach, as it was obvious he'd just had a nightmare. Sitting next to the frightened little boy, he noticed how flushed and sweaty his son looked, and lifted him on to his knee, "What happened?"**

**"Mr Cookson jumped out of my toy-box and was strangling me," He sobbed, burying his head into his fathers chest; Henry couldn't help but notice how warm his son felt, "and now my throat and head really hurts."**

**Henry felt Shawn's head, "You're burning up," He sighed, "wait here a second." He left the room, returning promptly with a thermometer and putting it in to his sons mouth. After a few minutes he took it out and looked at it, "103.4...looks like you caught Gus' Flu kiddo."**

* * *

**Present**

A low groan escaped Shawn Spencer's lips, his body ached something rotten, and he felt hot...so hot, like he was stuck inside a blazing furnace. All he wanted was to drop back in to the fitful slumber he'd been rudely dragged from; but it was no use, the disturbance was still...disturbing him, and now he was stuck somewhere between asleep and awake.

Cracking open one watery eye, Shawn saw a flash of lightning bounce off the wall, that did nothing to ease his banging head, which at that moment felt as though it was occupied by a very loud and out-of-tune brass band,  _surely they could have picked a better place to rehearse_. He quickly closed his eye, giggling feverishly at the coloured dots that had formed because of his sudden swap from light to dark. Not only could he hear/feel the brass band, now he could also see it too; little colourful people, playing their tiny instruments...they were so adorable, he just wanted to throw miniature coins at them to show how much he enjoyed...

Some sort of loud sound interrupted his entertainment; sitting up sluggishly and grimacing as every joint and muscle in his body protested, the fake psychic allowed his burning eyes to rest groggily on the 'Psych' window. Outside it was dark, too dark in fact (someone really needed to fix that street light), droplets of rain ran fiercely down the glass...Santa Barbara was obviously in the middle of a storm.

Just as he started to close his tired eyes another flash of lightning lit up the room, a females face pressed up harshly against the window, her eyes wide with fear. 'Help me', she mouthed. Shawn shut his eyes tight, as an intense pain tore through them, he really did feel horrible. One minute he was feeling hot and sweaty, the next he was shivering from the chills, he had the worst headache, his throat hurt, his... _Wait, a girls face?_  His eyes shot open. Nothing.

Had he just imagined it? Was the storm playing tricks on his already fevered mind? Shawn wanted to get up, but his unusually heavy body wouldn't let him. Instead he fell in to a coughing fit, his whole body recoiling from the painful hacking. More loud, annoying thunder came, and he could have sworn he heard a higher pitched sound in the midst of it.

Not even his curiosity was a match for the exhaustion he was feeling right now, and he found himself dropping back off to...Another flash of light, and a shining object caught his eye; blinking desperately in a bid to 'unblur' his vision, Shawn's eyes focused on the offending object. It was a knife. Murder...She was being murdered!

Shawn knew he had to get up, had to help her, but once again his body disobeyed. He was tired...So damn tired, and unbearably hot, he was sure his whole body was on fire. His eyes felt so heavy, and try as he might, he couldn't stop them from closing...

Another flash of lightning got his attention, and he prised his eyes open, although he instantly wished he hadn't. Shawn's body tensed as he looked through the window, straight in to cold, merciless eyes. He shivered involuntarily, despite the heat, because in that flash of light, the man, who Shawn could only describe has being, 'monstrous looking', pointed at Shawn with one hand, and slid the knife in front of his throat with the other.

He'd seen Shawn, and more importantly, he knew Shawn had seen him.

The whole place went dark again, and Shawn felt as though his heart was going to jump out and start tap-dancing on his chest. He sat motionlessly, staring out of the window, waiting for the next lightning strike to hit. When it did, the 'monstrous looking' killer was no where to be seen.

This time he needed to get up, he was determined to get up, he...would just rest his eyes briefly...

His eyes shot open... _Why's it suddenly so much lighter outside?_  He shook his head, that didn't matter, right now the most important thing was reporting the brutal murder he'd just witnessed to the Santa Barbara Police Department.

* * *

For once Shawn's dramatic entrance in to the Santa Barbara Police Department wasn't merely a bid to draw attention to himself. If it wasn't for the fact that almost everybody in the SBPD were so accustomed to Shawn Spencer falling and flailing around, they may have regarded his unsteady movements as concerning.

"What do you see?" Officer Buzz McNab kept his voice low, as though the details of the psychic vision Shawn was obviously having were highly classified.

"Dead People..."

McNab stared after the 'psychic' uneasily, as he made his way over to Detective's Carlton 'Lassie' Lassiter and Juliet 'Jules' O'Hara.

"Shawn!" Juliet stood up in surprise, taking in his more-so-than-usual-dishevelled-look, flushed face and shivering form, "What are...?"

"I tried to stop it..." He slurred feverishly, slumping down on to one of the chairs in front of Juliet's desk.

She looked at him in confusion, "Stop what?"

"She's dead."

"Spencer what the hell are you talking about?" Lassiter demanded, although his voice contained far less bite than usual; the younger man seemed genuinely distressed, "You're not making any sense."

Juliet walked round her desk and crouched down next to him, "Shawn, are you feeling alright?" She asked with concern, she'd never seen him in such a state before, he seemed totally out of it, and upon closer inspection, she realised he really didn't look too good. Putting a hand to his forehead she frowned and looked up at her partner, "He's burning up."

"We gotta get to Psych Office, he murdered her!"

"Oh great, so not only is he here spreading his germs around, he's also ranting at us deliriously." Lassiter backed up slightly, not wanted to catch whatever illness the 'psychic' had.

"Shawn, what's going on?" His best friend, Burton 'Gus' Guster panted as he rushed towards them, "The way you sounded on the phone, scared me half to death."

"What's going on out here?" Police Chief Karen Vick demanded as she exited her office.

"She was murdered, right outside our window Gus!"

"Who was murdered?" The Chief really wasn't in the mood for any of Shawn Spencer's eccentrics today.

"No one...He's delirious," Lassiter answered, screwing up his nose, "with some sort of contagious disease no doubt, that's probably spread it's way through the whole Police Department by now." He turned to his 'nemesis', "If my 100% attendance for this year gets ruined because of you Spencer, I swear I'll..."

"Detective Lassiter!" Chief Vick stopped him firmly, "Now will somebody help Mr Spencer home so we can get on with some actual Police business?"

All heads turned towards Gus, who was standing a fairly large distance away from his friend, with his hand covering his nose and mouth, "What?"

"OK, first of all, I'm completely un-delirious, and second of all, I'm not going anywhere until Jules and Lassie check out the murder scene."

"Fine." She agreed, afraid she might snap at any moment, "Lassiter, O'Hara, escort Mr Spencer to his office and look for any signs of a disturbance." She started to walk to her own office, "I'll be in my office if you need me," She turned back to face them once she got to her door, "and don't anybody dare need me!"

Lassiter hurried after her, "But Chief, you can't honestly believe that Spencer actually witnessed a murder..."

"Of course I don't," She seethed, "but he's refusing to leave otherwise, so unless you're suggesting we throw a sick man out on to the street, humouring him seems like the best option, wouldn't you agree Detective?"

"But..."

She gave him a scornful look.

"Yes Ma'am."

* * *

Gus and Lassiter made mad dashes for their vehicles, neither of them wanting to be the one to chaperone Shawn. Lassiter scowled when he saw Gus driving away in the Blueberry. _Great, I'm stuck with the infected_ , He thought, all but flinging his partner in to the passenger side of his car, before getting in to the driving seat and rolling down the window as far as it would go, to ensure that any germs could escape, "Spencer, you get in the back...And don't touch anything."

Gus slowed down the Blueberry to let the others overtake him, because even though he was 99.9% sure Shawn had just been hallucinating, he still wasn't willing to take that chance; not when a crazed murderer could be lurking about.

The 'crime scene' was underwhelming to say the least; not only was it lacking a dead body, but it also exhibited no sign of a struggle whatsoever.

Juliet turned her attention to the 'psychic', when the physical part of the investigation turned out to be non-existent, "Do you  _see_  anything?"

Shawn put his hand to his head, his eyes darting around everywhere, as he tried desperately to find something that would prove he was right. Unfortunately, the only thing it achieved was making his headache even worse, "No," He sighed, putting his hand down slowly, "I think maybe being sick is blocking my connection with the spiritual side."

"Well this wasted my time as much as expected." Lassiter complained, walking over to his car, "It's gonna take me weeks to get this thing disinfected."

Juliet shot Shawn a sympathetic look, "Take it easy OK?" She glanced at Gus expectantly.

"Don't worry, I'll stay with him until his fever goes down." He assured her.

Shawn watched in disbelief as she followed Lassiter to his car, "Wait, that's it?" He trudged after them.

Juliet turned round, "Shawn, there's nothing here, what else is there for us to do?"

"Look harder."

She sighed, "I tell you what, if you'll get some sleep, I promise I'll keep a look out for anyone reporting a missing person, OK?"

He nodded and smiled half-heartedly."Thanks Jules."

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**  
**

Shawn opened his eyes and groaned, his body ached all over and he still felt like crap. Sitting up gingerly from his lying position on the couch, and raising an eyebrow when a wet cloth fell from his forehead on to his lap, he wrapped the blanket that had been over him around his body tightly and looked over at his friend, who had something white covering his nose and mouth, "Dude, are you wearing a mask?...Seriously?"

Gus looked up from his laptop, "I've got meetings all week Shawn, I can't afford to get sick." Shawn looked like he was about to retort, but it turned in to a coughing fit instead, so Gus walked across the Psych office and passed him a glass of water.

"Thanks man." Shawn managed through coughs, as his shaky hand gripped the glass.

Gus frowned, his friend looked exhausted (not that it was surprising considering Shawn had only managed to grab about four hours sleep), and uncomfortable, the only consolation being that his high fever had gone down, "You should have gone home like I said."

"But I'm in the middle of an investigation Gus..."

"You're still on that?" Gus shook his head, "How are you gonna investigate anything, when it was such an effort for you to just sit up?"

"Oh come on Gus, of course I know I'm too sick to be investigating anything," He put the glass down on to the floor, "that's were you come in."

"No way Shawn, I'm not helping you investigate any imaginary murder."

"Still...With the hallucination thing...Really? Come on man, you know I haven't done that in like fifteen years."

"So? You used to do it every time you got sick Shawn."

"Not every time."

"Well...close enough." Gus started to pack away his sample case, "Anyway, even if I did believe you witnessed a murder...Which I don't, I couldn't help you right now anyway, I gotta go start my route."

"Fine, you won't help, I'll go do it myself!" He huffed, then held out his hand pathetically, "Help me up."

Gus glared at him, "You're not going anywhere Shawn."

"What are you gonna do, restrain me?" He snorted.

Gus didn't answer Shawn, instead he just put his hand in his pocket,

"Gus...What are you doing?"

Pulled out his Cellphone,

"Come on man, we can talk about this..."

Went to his speed dial,

"You...You wouldn't dare!"

And put his Cellphone to his ear.

"Gus!"

* * *

"Really Gus? You actually called him..." Shawn shot his friend an unimpressed glare, "You do realise he's the reason I feel like I could cough up a vital organ at any moment, right?"

"Hey, I told you not to drink from that glass Shawn." Henry reminded him, taking on a lecturing tone, "Maybe next time, you'll listen to what I say."

"Ok Dad, first of all, we both know that's probably never going to happen, and secondly, I drank from the side furthest away from you. What did your germs do, hop around the rim?" He looked his father up and down, "Why are you here anyway? I'm a grown man, I can look after myself."

"Gus tells me you've been hallucinating murders and what-not."

"I've not hallucinated anything, there's no 'murders' just a murder, and who says 'what-not'...Seriously, who?"

"So, despite having a fever sky-high, the lack of a body, and absolutely no evidence of an altercation of any kind, you're still adamant that what you saw was real?" Henry shook his head, "Kid, it's time you woke up and got back on the reality train."

"Yeah? Well here's a newsflash Dad, I had fever-induced hallucinations my whole childhood, but I always knew they weren't real afterwards."

"Oh yeah? Well what about that time you hallucinated Mr Farlow getting strangled to death by his own tie?" Gus challenged, "You turned white as a sheet every time you saw him for months after that."

"I was six years old, and you thought he was a ghost too Gus."

"Only because your irrational fear of him was so convincing Shawn."

"You know what? This is ridiculous, a girls been killed, there's a murderer walking around somewhere, probably plotting against his only witness...Me, and we're discussing events that happened over twenty years ago."

"There hasn't been any murder Shawn." Gus insisted.

"Yeah there has."

"No, there hasn't."

"Has too!"

"Has not!"

"Has too!"

"Has not!"

"Has too!"

"Has not!"

"Prove it."

"Ok, I will," Gus headed for the door, "are you coming or what?"

"Oh, you mean right now?" A stress ball connected with his head, "Ow! Why do you have a stress ball?" He pushed himself off the couch and shuffled behind his friend, following him outside, "Ok, I'll bite...Where's your proof?"

"Well, Lets see...No body, check!" Gus started, "No evidence of there ever being a body, or a struggle, check! And..." He shoved a thermometer in to his friends mouth.

Shawn took it out, "What are you..."

Gus' eyes narrowed, "Put it back in your mouth Shawn!"

The fake psychic pouted, "Fine," And put the thermometer back in to his mouth, "his is upid."

Gus ignored his protests, "Ok, read what it says."

"100.5."

"Well that's down exactly 3.1 degrees since the last time I took your temperature," Gus looked suitably smug, "I think we can all agree that this is all the proof I need."

"Wait...You've been taking my temperature? And putting wet cloths on my head..." Shawn did a bad job at hiding a smirk, "Dude...are you like totally broody right now?"

Giving his friend a look that threatened to burn a hole right through him, Gus took out his car keys and got in to his car.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Ignoring the stifled laughter coming from his friend, Gus got out of the Blueberry and stormed towards their office. Shawn watched through the window in amusement as his friend jammed the rest of the samples haphazardly in to the sample case; then suddenly something caught his eye:

_**A smudge on the glass...** _

_Flash! A females face pressed up harshly against the window..._

"That's it!" Shawn got in to the Blueberry and started up the car.

"Shawn, what are you doing?" His best friend demanded as he exited their office, sample case in hand.

"I'm going to the Police Station Gus, I know how I can prove that someone was murdered here last night." His voice was high (if not a little hoarse) with excitement, as he started to pull out of the driveway.

Gus walked forward desperately, "Shawn, get back here, I need my car...Shawn!" He watched in despair as his friend drove off.

* * *

As Shawn walked in to the Chiefs office, which Lassiter, Juliet and the Chief herself were occupying, he took a look over Lassiter's shoulder at a case file he we holding in his hand.

_**Deaths. Homeless. Organs Missing. Serial Killer.** _

Lassiter felt a presence behind him and turned around, narrowing his eyes and slamming the file shut when he realised who it was, "What the hell is he doing here?"

"I was about to ask that same question." Chief Vick looked up expectantly at Shawn, "Well Mr Spencer?"

"I can prove that somebody was murdered outside the Psych office last night...BOOYAH!" He called out victoriously.

"OK, ignoring that last part...How exactly?" As always, Chief Vick was genuinely curious.

"There was a smudge on the window."

"Wait no! An actual smudge on your window...Get out of here!" Lassiter's patronising tone turned serious as he looked at the Chief, "You're gonna let me get him out of here, right?"

"I can't say I'm not considering it."

Realising he was losing his audience, Shawn decided it was time to play his psychic card, "Wait, I'm getting something," He put his hand to his head, "I'm seeing a face, and it's being pushed up against the glass." He put his hand down, "Chief, if you swab the window for saliva, you'll get her DNA."

Juliet looked at him skeptically, "Shawn...Did you just fake a psychic vision?"

He could hardly believe the irony in that question, "Yes...?"

The Chief had had enough, "Ok Mr Spencer, I think it's high time you went home"

"But Chief I..." With the looks on all their faces, he knew it was no use, "You know what, fine! If no one will help, then I'll just solve this thing on my own!" And with that he stormed out of her office.

"Shawn wait!" Juliet called after him, "Shawn!" She grabbed his arm.

"What?!" He snapped as he turned around, frowning when she let go, "I'm sorry Jules, I..."

"I know," She half smiled, "I just wanted to tell you that I've checked through all the missing persons files over the last 48 hours."

"Wait, you actually did that?" He was unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

She looked oddly offended, "Shawn, I gave you my word."

"I know your words good Jules, it's just...I figured you were just humoring me..."

"Why would I do that?" The female Detective asked in confusion.

Shawn looked over at Chief Vick and Lassiter, "Oh...No reason." He turned his attention back on to Juliet, who was already at her desk. "So, how many missing people do I need to look through?" He asked as he walked over to her.

"None."

"What?"

"Well, no females anyway...I'm sorry Shawn." She passed him the file.

He flicked through it quickly, "What about further back than 48 hours ago?"

"Shawn..."

"Come on Jules, can't we just check?" He sat at the edge of her desk.

She sighed, "Ok." And pulled it up on her computer.

Shawn quickly scanned the photographs on the screen. To his disappointment there was no features on any of the people in the photographs that matched the girl he saw through the window, that he was sure of, even if the lighting had been terrible.

* * *

Despite the fact his trip down to the Police Station had been a big waste of time, and had only succeeded to help in proving everybody else right, Shawn still wasn't deterred from carrying out his solo investigation. He was positive, without a doubt that what he'd seen was real. As he walked over to the Blueberry his own motorcycle caught his eye.

"Buzz!" Shawn smiled as he spotted McNab coming out of the Police Station.

"Oh, hey Shawn how are you feeling?" He asked, then carried on talking before the fake psychic had a chance to answer, "You know,I had a fever induced hallucination once, although I don't actually remember anything about it, apart from being stuck up in a tree afterwards...It took two firemen to help me down." He suddenly looked very thoughtful, "One month on and I still don't know how I got up there."

"Right...Anyway, Can you do me a favour?"

"Sure, what is it?"

He tossed the keys to the Blueberry over to McNab, "Give these to Gus when he gets here."

McNab caught the keys and looked down at them, "OK..."

"Thanks buddy." Shawn smiled as he put his helmet on and got on to his bike.

* * *

Shawn had been driving around practically in circles for close to half an hour, trying to get his head straight; searching his memory for any sort of clue that would help in his investigation.

_Flash._

_A females face pressed up harshly against the window._

He tried to concentrate as much as possible, he needed to find something...Anything that might help.

_Flash._

_A knife._

What sort of knife was it? Where there any definitive features? He attempted to answer those question, but it was to no avail. He definitely wasn't at the top of his game.

_Flash._

_Merciless eyes._

Shawn was rudely brought back to real-time as a silver truck connected with the back of his bike, sending him flying in to the air.

Landing with a thud, his head slamming in to the ground, Shawn groaned and watched as the offending vehicle drove on; blinking desperately as he attempted to read the licence plate:

 _ **5 N...**_ Shawn blinked desperately now, his vision really starting to blur... **0...** He was so tired, but he fought hard to keep his eyes opened... ** _7..._** Black...

 


	3. Chapter 3

Just as Gus struggled to get his sample case out of the Blueberry his Cellphone started to ring; seeing the name on the caller ID he was seriously considering ignoring it, "Go away Shawn, I'm not talking to you!"

"Gus someones trying to kill me!"

"No they're not Shawn." Gus replied, being sure to keep his voice as calm and casual as possible; his friend really didn't sound too good, and who could know what sort of fever induced hallucinations Shawn Spencer could have been having right at that moment.

"Dude I'm serious!"

Gus sighed and put the sample case that he'd took ages getting out, back in to the Blueberry and slammed the trunk shut, "Shawn calm down...Where are you?"

"At the Hospital."

Gus got in to his car and started to fumble with his seat belt...Why was everything such a struggle today? "Why are you at the Hospital?"

"Because someone's trying to kill me..."

"You know, most people go to a Police Station for this sort of thing." He wanted to keep the mood as light as possible in a bid to calm his feverish friend down.

"Dude...I am not delirious!" The two of them had been best friends for so long it was almost as though he could actually read Gus' mind, "The killer tried to run me off the road...I came off my bike...Hit my head...And now I have concussion and my Doctor won't release me because my temperature's too high." Shawn suddenly raised his voice, "Even though I've told him a million times that I already had a fever!" He lowered his voice, taking on a dramatic tone, "Gus you really gotta get me out of here...Call Jules and Lassie too, I need all the help I can get...Plus after what happened at the Police Station I need to score me some psychic points."

"Yeah...I heard about that." For the first time Gus actually believed his friend was lucid, "What about your Dad?"

"Gus why would my Dad need to score psychic points...Everyone knows he's not psychic."

Gus was aware that his friend knew full well what he'd meant, "Am I calling your Dad or not Shawn?"

"Can you die from a concussion?"

"Yes."

"Am I gonna die?"

"I doubt it."

"Then no."

* * *

Shawn wasn't a huge fan of Hospitals...Especially when hot nurses were scarce and the Doctors wouldn't release him even though he felt absolutely fine. Well...Aside from having the worse headache he'd ever experienced in his life, a fluctuating fever, the chills, a really sore throat, irritating respiratory problems, body aches, and feeling like he could sleep for a week...Of course. But then again what do you expect when your own father tries to murder you with his germs?

He couldn't lie there feeling sorry for himself though, he had 'work' to do, afterall Gus, Juliet and Lassiter would be arriving there at any moment; he needed to fill himself full of psychic fuel if he was going to get himself out of his earlier psychic vision disaster.

Rubbing at his temple (more so in a bid to ease his aching head than anything else) Shawn scanned the Hospital for anything he could use. He turned his attention to a group of three Doctors, two male and one female.

Shawn narrowed his eyes; ladies first.

_**Sweat on forehead. Pedometer. Engagement ring.** _

Then guy Doc number one.

_**Crinkled clothing. Disheveled appearance. Drooping shoulders. Bags under his eyes.** _

The last Doctor had his back to Shawn, and his head was hurting way to much to try and get a 'reading' off of him; the man was however wearing brown suede shoes with epic pineapple covered shoe laces...Oh they'd be getting a mention, just for being awesome.

"Spencer, how is it you cause me more trouble when you're sick?" Lassiter stormed in, with Gus and Juliet coming up the rear.

"Ok first of all, I'm not sick enough to be here...And second of all," Shawn pointed to his Doctor, a tall, slender man with greying hair, who appeared to be in his late forties/early fifties, and raised his voice "arrest that man...That man is holding me against my will!"

Shawn's Doctor walked over to them, "Mr Spencer we've been through this," He started, with a patience in his tone that must have took years to perfect, "you have a concussion and a fever fluctuating from a hundred to a hundred and three degrees, and until we can get that stable, It's not safe enough for you to leave."

"But I have the Flu! Tell him Gus!"

"I know...I'm a Doctor."

"And my head is filled with it's usual amount of awesome...In fact I'll prove it."

"What...Like you did at the Station?" Lassiter gave a smug smirk, which faded when Juliet glared at him, "What?!"

Shawn put his hand to his head.

Shawn's Doctor turned to Gus, "What is he doing?"

Gus rolled his eyes, "Don't ask."

"That's right Doc...Don't ask, just be prepared to be amazed!"

"Yeah...Like when we were in the Chief's office."

"Carlton...You already said that."

"Yeah...But nobody made any attempt to snicker at Spencer's misfortune."

"That's because nobody was amused!" Juliet turned her attention back to Shawn, who was pointing at a female Doctor.

"You over there, with the long brown hair and Doctors costume...Congratulations on the wedding, you're husband-to-be is one lucky man...And don't worry, you have a great figure...Your dress will fit."

The female Doctor stared at him, "This isn't a costume...I work here, and have you been stalking me?"

"Only with my mind." On her look, Shawn elaborated, "I'm talking spiritually...I'm a psychic."

"Whatever." She replied, walking away.

"Wait...I'm getting something else." Shawn put his hand to his head again, and then pointed to the male Doctor, "You!"

"Who...Me?"

"Yeah, you...I'm sensing a dark cloud around you, filled with negativity." He made circular motions in the Doctors direction with his free hand, "Your girlfriend...She kicked you out, and ever since then you've been sleeping here, at the Hospital.

"Actually, it was my wife of five years who kicked me out...Oh and thanks, I guess I'm homeless again, now that everyone knows I've been living here!" The Doctor stormed off.

"Oh...Uh...Sorry man!" Shawn yelled after him.

"Jerk." The Doctor muttered.

Shawn looked over at Gus, "I probably deserved that."

"Yes you did." Gus confirmed.

When Shawn started to put his hand to his head again, Juliet stepped forward, "Shawn stop, we all know you're psychic..."

"Speak for yourself." Lassiter snorted.

Juliet took a deep breath, "Anyway..."

"That guy over there is wearing pineapple shoe laces!" Shawn suddenly blurted out, then turned to his friend, "Gus...I'm gonna need you to buy me some pineapple shoe laces."

"Buy your own shoe laces!"

She raised an eyebrow, then continued, "Anyway...Like I was saying...You don't need to prove yourself just because of what happened earlier...Nobody doubts your ability." She held up her hand before Lassiter could talk, "And I'm not speaking for you!"

Shawn smiled, "Thank's Jules."

Lassiter's cellphone rang, "Hello this is Detective Lassiter...Uhuh...Yeah...We'll be right there." He hung up and turned to Juliet, "They've found another body...O'Hara let's go."

"Coming...Take it easy Shawn." Juliet said, before following after her partner.

"Wait...What about the attempt on my life?!"

Juliet turned back, "We've got someone looking in to that."

"So...You believe me now?"

"Shawn...You we're involved in a hit and run." She replied, before rushing to catch up with Lassiter.

Shawn looked up at Gus, "She believes me."

"No she doesn't Shawn...I think they have to look in to it...Even if it was probably your own fault for driving around with a fever in the first place."

"Gus I know when somebody's trying to kill me!"

"Trying to kill you?" Shawn's Doctor looked at him in surprise, "Why on earth would you think somebody's trying to kill you?"

"For this Doc, this!" Shawn pointed to his head, "I'm not just psychic...I'm a Psychic Detective, and last night I witnessed a murder right outside of 'Psych'."

"What's 'Psych'?"

"Our Psychic Detective Agency." The fake psychic explained.

"Yeah...Too bad the body disappeared..." Gus muttered.

"The body disappeared?"

"I guess I must've dropped off, and the killer must've moved the body."

"You fell asleep?" The Doctor stared at him, "Assuming you were suffering from Influenza symptoms last night, are you sure you weren't just hallucinating?"

"Yes I'm sure...And my psychic senses are sure too." Shawn put his hand to his head, "And they're gonna lead me right to the murderer...Trust me, this guy doesn't know what he's..." Shawn started to cough loudly, "Dealing with..." He choked.

"Oh yeah...I bet he's terrified." Gus rolled his eyes.

"You're terrified!" Shawn shot back.

"So, the two Detecttives...They're helping with your 'investigation'?"

"Who...Jules and Lassie? No...They're working another case."

"Yeah...A real case."

Shawn shot his friend a look.

"What are they investigating, anyway?" Gus asked.

"A serial killer, whose targeting homeless peop..."

_Flash! A females face pressed up harshly against the window..._

Shawn put his hand to his head.

_**Matted hair. Dirt on face. Overgrown unclean Jacket with holes in it.** _

"She was homeless..."

Gus stared at his friend, "Who?"

"The girl who was murdered last night...She was homeless." Finally! He knew what it was that he'd been missing, "Gus...Jules and Lassie have been working my case all along!"

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Shawn what the hell were you thinking?!"

"Oh...Hey Dad." Shawn flashed his trademark grin as he watched his father storm towards them, all the while wondering how the hell he'd found out. He looked at Gus out of the corner of his eye, but his friend looked just as surprised as he was.

"Don't you 'Hey Dad' me!" Henry snapped, "I don't know what's worse, having a son with a blatant disregard for his own life, or finding out you were in here from Buzz McNab!"

"Hey, the risk of danger is always high in my line of work!"

"Sorry to disappoint you Shawn, but the 'Village Idiot' isn't an occupation?" Henry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah? Well this 'Village Idiot' just got a breakthrough on his case." Shawn's retort didn't hold quite as much bite as it usually did, truth was this little argument was really taking it out of him; he turned to his best friend, "But of course Gus is still being difficult."

"Difficult? Shawn, you found out that Lassie and Juliet are working a case with a serial killer who's killing homeless people, and now suddenly the girl you 'saw' is homeless too...You must be out of your damn mind if you think I'm gonna buy that!"

"Damnit Kid, when the hell are you gonna let all this go?!"

"Once I find the serial killer, locate then girls body, and prove everybody wro..." Shawn erupted in a coughing fit, "...Wrong..." He squeaked pathetically.

* * *

_Man hospitals are boring_ , Shawn thought as he stared at the little smudge on the dimly lit wall that sort of resembled a dears head...Or a beetle if he squinted. His father had left shortly after their argument, he'd made some excuse about it being pointless staying there because there was no getting through to Shawn, but really he just wanted Shawn to get some rest, and Gus had stayed until visiting hours was over.

The psychic detective turned his attention to the sleeping form in the bed next to his...Sleeping, something Shawn wished he was doing, but no, he couldn't sleep...There was something bothering him; had been all day since Lassiter and Juliet had left...He just wished he knew what it was.

Then it hit him...The Doctor! His interest in the case had seemed a little too excessive, not to mention he'd been asking way to many questions for it to have been just simple curiousity...There had to be some reason behind it, Shawn just wasn't sure what that reason was.

Without giving it any thought, the fake psychic swung his legs around so he was in a sitting position, and took the IV line out of his hand; he needed answers, and he knew just where to find them.

Standing up he became aware of how much his body felt like a dead weight, yet when he walked he was struck with a strange floating like sensation...It was all a little unnerving, but there was no deterring him; Shawn wanted to find answers, and answers he would find.

Skulking past sleeping patients, and ducking in and out in a bid to avoid any hospital staff that might be lurking about, Shawn headed down the corridor until he found the room with his Doctor's name on 'Dr. A.R. Samuals."

He crouched down and peered through the keyhole, as he attempted to spy on his Doctor, it was no use however, the lights were out. Shawn's mouth curled up into a smile...Perhaps he could break in and take a look around. He put his hand to where his pocket and Gus' credit card should have been, only to remember that he was wearing a hospital gown.

'Damnit!" Shawn cursed under his breath.

"What are you doing?"

Shawn let of a high pitched squeal, before composing himself and turning around, "Oh...Hey Doc." He replied casually.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at his patient, "Why are you out of bed Mr Spencer?"

"I..." For once Shawn couldn't think of any clever excuses, and that disappointed him...Although with the amount his head was now pounding, he supposed he could forgive himself...Suddenly he really wasn't feeling too good.

The Doctor frowned, and felt the younger mans head, "Your fever's right back up again," He sighed, grabbing Shawn's arm and ushering him back towards his bed, "You really need to rest..."

"No...Wait..." The fake psychic protested feverishly, "You...Know something...What do you know...?"

"I know a lot of things Mr Spencer." His Doctor replied patiently, as he helped the younger man back into his bed.

"Case...You know something about the case..." He waved his hand clumsily in front of the Doctor, "...I sensed it...With my mind powers...I have mind powers...My powers are...Mindly..."

Dr Samuals hooked Shawn back up to the IV and took his temperature, the thermometer read almost 105 degrees, the Doctor's brow furrowed in concern, "We need to get your temperature down." He pressed the call button.

"But you haven't...Told me...What you...Know..." Shawn mumbled, as a nurse rushed in.

"I'll tell you later, once we get your fever down." The Doctor assured him.

"But...It's late time now..."

* * *

"O'Hara...A word." The Chief summoned the young Detective into her office, and closed the door behind them after Juliet had entered, "Any news on Spencer?" She asked as she sat behind her desk, her voice barely louder than a whisper, with all the earlier authority in her tone, now being replaced with what could possibly be described as slight concern.

Juliet sat in the seat opposite, "Gus called a couple of hours ago...Apparently Shawn now thinks that the case he imagined is connected with our serial killer case."

The Chief sighed heavily, "He isn't gonna let this go, is he?"

The young detective shook her head, "Shawn won't stop, even if it kills him."

That's what Chief Vic was afraid of, "Well then, to prevent the SBPD's only psychic detective from pursuing his imaginary case to death, I guess it couldn't hurt for you and Lassiter to..."

"Humor him?" Juliet interrupted

"...Give him a little leeway on this."

"Right."

"Hey...This conversation never happened...Now go."

Juliet nodded and got to her feet, unable to hide the smile from her face as she left the Chief's office.

* * *

"103.8." The Doctor read the reading on the thermometer, "It's still higher than I'd like it to be, but at least it's falling."

"So...Are you gonna answer my questions now?" Shawn asked tiredly, his teeth chattering together as he held the thin blanket tightly to his chest, chills running through his body.

"I really shouldn't...But there's no way you're going to rest until I do..." He sighed, "Ok, yesterday evening a young woman, who's attire lead me to believe she was homeless, came to the hospital with a high fever...The hospital was busy yesterday evening, and I had to deal with a man with a severe head injury, so I left the female in an examination room...Now I could've only been gone about four of five minutes, but when I returned the female was gone. I asked around, but no one could remember seeing her leave...It's not really that unusual for homeless people especially, to leave without treatment, so I didn't really think that much of it...Until you mentioned about the serial killer that's targeting homeless people of course."

Shawn just about managed to keep up with what the Doctor was telling him, his body was demanding sleep, and the fake psychic was finding it increasingly different to go against it's wishes, "Can you...Describe her?"

"About 5ft 5", short red hair, wearing a large woolie sweater."

"It's not her...That's not what she looked like." Shawn pinched the bridge of his nose, "Whether she'd a victim or not Doc...I'll find her."

"Hey, all I'm interested in right now is you getting some sleep."

Shawn nodded, "Ok..."

With his questions now answered, Shawn was fast asleep within seconds.

* * *

"Why am I still here?" Shawn asked impatiently, as the morning sun shone through the window. The fake psychic was sat on the edge of his hospital bed, fully dressed and ready to go.

"Shawn your fever reached a record high last night, your Doctor's just making sure you're good to go," Gus wasn't sure how much more of his best friends complaining he could take, "and anyway, if you hadn't have drove around on your bike like an idiot, you wouldn't be in here."

"Hey, I wouldn't have been on my bike if you'd have helped me!" Shawn instantly regretted his retort when he saw the look of guilt that flashed across his best friends face, "You know what...None of that matters now, I just wanna get outta here so I can carry on with the case."

Shawn's Doctor approached, "Ok...Looks like you're good to go." He grabbed the younger man as he jumped to his feet, "Not so fast...Now it's imperative that you rest Mr Spencer, or you're going to be coming straight back in here."

"Yeah, yeah, rest, I got it...Thank's Doc." He turned to Gus, "Come on dude, let's go!"

The Doctor sighed as he watched them leave...This wouldn't be the last he'd see of Shawn, he was certain of it...

"So...What are we investigating next then?" Gus asked casually as they walked towards the exit.

Shawn's face lit up, "You're gonna help?"

His friend nodded as they left the hospital, "But only because you're probably gonna end up killing yourself if I don't...I still believe you just imagined the whole thing..."

The fake psychic smiled, "That's ok buddy, right now I'll take all the help I can get."

As Shawn followed Gus towards the 'Blueberry', he started to feel dizzy, and leant against a wall for support; once everything had stopped spinning, the fake psychic pushed himself away from the wall and attempted to catch up to his friend.

Realising that Shawn wasn't right behind him, Gus turned around, "You good...?"

"Never better..." He lied.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

"No way Shawn..." Gus kept his attention on the road as he spoke, "That's gotta be one of your dumbest ideas yet!"

Shawn pouted at his best friend from where he was sitting in the passenger seat, "But you promised you'd help with my investigation..."

"Yeah...So I could do all the running around why you stay at home and take it easy, not so you can go undercover Shawn."

"Dude, who looks more homeless right now, me or you?" He asked through chattering teeth, wrapping his arms around his shivering body, "...I mean look at me, I'm a mess." He just couldn't get warm.

"You look sick Shawn, not homeless..." Worried that his friend was burning up again, Gus put his hand to his friends forehead without taking his eyes off the road. To his surprise Shawn actually didn't feel too warm at all, so if he did have a fever, it obviously wasn't an high one at least.

The fake psychic wafted away his friend's hand, "Homeless people look sick, plus look at the state of my clothes, they're all torn and dirty from the crash...And my hair..." He took a look in the rearview mirror and cringed.

Satisfied that it wasn't a high fever that was making his friend so cold, Gus turned the heat right up until Shawn's shivering lessened "That still doesn't make you look homeless."

"Maybe not, but that flea-bitten old jacket that my dad refuses to throw away will be the perfect addition to my cover."

"Dude, you must be sicker than you look if you really think you're Dad'll let you borrow that thing."

Shawn smirked "Who said anything about asking his permission?" His smirk soon faltered and turned into a grimace as he rested his forehead into the palm of his hands. He felt horrible, and it was getting harder and harder to keep up the charade that he was feeling well enough to continue investigating the murder, when honestly, sleeping was the only thing the fake psychic actually felt like doing, and the fact he was feeling even sicker after being in the hospital was making him nervous... _What if the murderer followed me to the hospital? What if he poisoned me?_ He thought uneasily.  _That's it! The murderer poisoned me to make me sicker, and now he's waiting for me to go back to the hospital so he can finish me off for good!_

Gus frowned in concern, despite their banter he'd been keeping an eye on Shawn, there'd been something off about his friend since they'd left the hospital, "That's it Shawn, I can tell you're not feeling good at all, I'm taking you home."

"No!" Shawn cried out, then erupted into a fit of coughing. He needed to get his plan underway right now, why he was still well enough to do so. He did consider telling Gus about his theory, but with Gus refusing to believe he'd even witnessed a murder and all, he decided there really was no point. Feeling his best friend's worried stare, the fake psychic added, "Listen man, just drive me to my Dad's place, I'll grab the jacket, ask the homeless people some questions and then you can drive me straight home and take care of me."

Gus snorted, "I ain't your man servant, take care of yourself!"

"But Gus, I'm sick!" He whined.

Gus rolled his eyes, it was no use, Shawn was going to go undercover whether he helped or not, "So, what's the plan?" he asked as they reached Henry Spencer's house.

Shawn grinned, "Well..."

* * *

"Hey Dad!" Shawn flashed a weak smile when his father opened the door. He'd intended for his greeting to be a little more enthusiastic, but the short walk from the Blueberry to the house had sapped what little energy he had left.

"Damn it kid, you look terrible."

"Is that the way you treat all your gue..." Shawn suddenly felt incredibly weak and felt his legs begin to buckle. The next thing he became aware of were two sets of hands holding him up and ushering him towards the couch, "Hey, is there a reason you're manhandling me?" His voice was shaky as he tried to make light of the situation.

After sitting Shawn down on the couch, Henry put his hand to his sons forehead, "Gus go get the thermometer...It's were I always keep it." Once Gus had left to do just that, the older man asked, "When's the last time you ate?"

"I had breakfast before I left the hospital this morning." He neglected to tell him about the part when he'd snuck into the restroom straight after and brought said meal right back up again.

Henry grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around the younger man, "You haven't stopped shivering since you got here." As he said that, Gus returned with the thermometer and passed it to the older man, who put it into his sons mouth. He took it out again once it had beeped and read it aloud, "102.4...Why don't you go and rest upstairs in your old bedroom? Your bed'll be comfier than the couch at least."

"I don't need to rest, I'm fi..." He yelped when Gus kicked his leg, then suddenly remembered the plan... _"First...I'll make up some elaborate excuse to get upstairs..." Shawn had begun, "Since when do you need to make an excuse to go upstairs Shawn?" Gus had asked..._ He turned to his father, "On second thoughts, my old room sounds like a great idea." Shawn got to his feet and started to walk unsteadily up the stairs.

"Need any help?" Henry offered.

"I'm good." Shawn called back. Of course Shawn had no real intention of even entering his old room. As he reached the top of the stairs he recalled the next part of his plan _.."Then I'll sneak into my Dad's room and grab the jacket from the back of the closet, where he always keeps it..."_

The fake psychic was about to enter his father's room when the horrible dizzy feeling from earlier returned, and the throbbing inside his head intensified...He really needed to lie down. Shawn somehow managed to get himself into his old room and slumped down onto his bed, shutting his eyes tight until the feeling had finally passed, "I feel like crap..." He mumbled, getting into the bed properly, not to sleep of course, no, he would just lay there a while until he felt up to moving again...

As his eyes started to close, he thought of the final part of his plan _..."And what will I be doing why you're fooling around upstairs Shawn?" Gus had asked, 'Isn't it obvious Gus? You're my distraction Gus...'_

* * *

Shawn groaned and rubbed his eyes wearily, before suddenly realising where he was and what he was supposed to be doing there, "Crap...Did I fall asleep?" He got out of bed way too fast and had to steady himself before walking at a much more sensible pace out of his room and into his Father's room. He looked in the closet where the jacket was always kept, only to find that it wasn't even there. After looking another three times (just to make sure), he started to look in the other closets and drawers, and when he still couldn't find it, he had another look in the first closet.

If it wasn't for the fact that all his searching around for the jacket was starting to make his headache worse, he would have probably continued doing it, but instead he (or rather his body) decided to admit defeat and head back downstairs.

"Oh, look whose finally up." His father greeted, "Are you feeling any better?"

Shawn looked at him in confusion, "A little...How long was I out?" He sat down carefully on the couch and wrapped the blanket around himself.

"A few hours."

"Hours?!"Shawn looked at the clock which read '13:01'. He suddenly realised that they were the only ones in the room, "So...When did Gus bail on me?"

"About an hour ago." Henry answered, standing up, "You lay down there and I'll go make you some soup."

"Are you gonna sing me a lullaby too?" The younger man snickered as he got comfortable.

"Don't push it Shawn."

A while later Henry returned with said soup and passed it to his son, who scrunched his nose up at it, "Thanks...But I think I'll pass."

"Eat the soup Shawn."

"You eat the soup!"

"For crying out loud, why do you have to make everything so difficult?"

"Oh I'm sorry...Is my being sick an inconvenience for you?"

"Don't get cute with me kid." He took the soup off Shawn, "I just wanted to help you get your strength up, but if you don't wanna get better..."

Shawn rolled his eyes, "Fine, pass me the damn soup..."

"You want anything to dip in that?" Henry smirked as he passed the soup back.

The younger man shot is father a look, "Don't think I won't throw this all over you."

* * *

Gus returned just as Shawn was taking his last mouthful of soup, "Really Dude? You couldn't have gotten here before this torture to my taste-buds started?"

Gus' eyes lit up, "Oh, you made soup Mr Spencer?"

"Yeah, I saved a little for you." He headed for the kitchen, "At least somebody appreciates my cooking."

"Boiling up soup from a can is hardly cooking Dad."

"Oh, and takeout is?" Henry shot back.

Shawn leaned over to his friend, "Dude...I couldn't find it anywhere."

"Find what?"

"My Dad's old jacket."

"Oh the jacket...I snuck it out and put it into the 'Blueberry' once I realised your whole 'sick act' wasn't actually an act."

"Why didn't you just wake me?"

"Seriously?"

"Here you go Gus."

"Thanks Mr Spencer." Gus took a mouthful of soup, "Mmm, this is so good..."

Shawn rolled his eyes, "You are such a suck up."

"Suck it Shawn!"

"You suck it!" The fake psychic shot back, then added impatiently, "Dude will you hurry it up already..."

* * *

As Gus drove out of Henry's driveway, Shawn put his dad's jacket on. "Hey, how do I look?" He started to cough as the dust from the old musty fraying jacket irritated his throat."

"Sick, exhausted..." Gus answered, "And that jacket's too big for you."

"Perfect." Shawn grinned.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence Shawn suddenly began to sweat profusely, "Gus pull over!"

"Huh?"

"Dude!" Shawn pleaded desperately.

Realising what was happening Gus quickly pulled over and watched as his friend got out, pulling a face when he heard the retching, "You good?" He asked as Shawn climbed back into the passenger seat.

Shawn just shot his friend a look, "Really?"

"Are you sure you don't wanna go home?" Gus asked when he saw how flushed his friend looked, "Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow."

"If I live that long..." He muttered.

"Hm?"

"Dude...Pull over there!" Shawn signalled.

Gus did just that, then turned to the fake psychic, "Wait...Why am I pulling over here?"

"So the homeless people don't see me getting out of a car..." Shawn rolled his eyes, "Do you want my cover to be blown before I even start?"

"I don't like this Shawn..."

"Dude, just stay in the car and quit being such a man baby!"

"You realise how ironic that statement is coming from you, right?" Gus watched as Shawn trudged out of sight and frowned, "I really don't like this..."

* * *

Shawn turned around the corner to a local park that was often frequented by the homeless. Luckily today was no different, and the fake psychic wasted no time in attempting to get any of them to answer is questions...

"Hey, I'm looking for my friend..." He tried on a middle-aged looking guy, with long dark hair and a greying beard.

The man just stared at him, then walked away.

Shawn turned his attention to a fair haired man, "I think she mentioned coming to this park some times..."

Again he was completely ignored.

He turned his attention to a young woman, "Last time I saw her...She really didn't look too good..." He knew how much of an understatement that was.

Still no one would acknowledge him.

"Oh come on...Why won't anyone help me?!" He groaned out in frustration, leaning back heavily against a brick wall and shutting his eyes. Feeling so ill and exhausted was really starting to get on his nerves, and his Father's stupid flea-bitten jacket was making him feel way too hot and sweaty, not to mention it was really starting to make his chest hurt. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea afterall..._

"You don't look so good yourself..." A gruff voiced interrupted Shawn from his musings.

The fake psychic lifted his eyelids slowly to find an older looking bearded man standing there, wearing a torn beanie hat, fingerless gloves, and a grey coat.

The man removed one of his gloves and put his palm to Shawn's sweaty forehead, "Whoa...That's some fever you got there kid." He grabbed hold of the younger man's arm and ushered him forward.

"Don't suppose you've seen my friend...?"

"Let's just get you settled down here first." The man said as he helped the fake psychic onto the park bench.

"She's homeless..." Shawn added feverishly.

"Yeah...Figured she would be." The man dipped his glove into a puddle of water and pressed it against the younger man's head.

Shawn's eyes widened, "Thanks...?"

The man just nodded his head, "So...What did you say your friend was called?"

"Um..."

The man frowned and pressed the back of his hand gently against Shawn's burning cheeks, "OK then...What did she look like?"

"She's in her late twenties...Maybe early thirties? A little shorter than me, light hair, wearing a large jacket"

"Huh...? It's not her then..." The man mused.

Shawn looked at him curiously, "Not who...?"

"Rita...The young woman the cops found dead yesterday."

"What did she look like?"

"Short red hair...wore a large green sweater."

_..."About 5ft 5, short red hair, wearing a large woolie sweater." The Doctor had told Shawn._ It had to be her, Shawn was sure of it.

"...I talked to her a few times." The man continued, "She was a nice girl...I warned her never to go to the clinic on a Tuesday..."

_Tuesday?_ That was the night he'd witnessed the murder, "What's so special about Tuesdays?"

"Wednesdays and Fridays are a bad idea too..."

"Why?"

"Because that's when the  _Grim Reaper_ does his bidding." On Shawn's confused look, he elaborated, "The last few weeks, people like us who've gone to the clinic on any of those days, have turned up dead afterwards."

Shawn raised an eyebrow, "Where is this clinic?"

"It's part of the hospital." He felt Shawn's head again when he noticed the younger man had started to shiver, "You're just goin' hot and cold ain't ya? And this damn fever of yours sure ain't budging any..." He frowned, not liking how laboured the younger man's breathing sounded, "I know it's a terrible time to suggest this, but...I really think you could do with seeing a Doctor at the clinic..."

"Seriously...?"

"Hey...At least it's only Thursday."

* * *

"Where the hell are you Shawn?" Gus tapped nervously on the steering wheel, his heart sinking when he saw his feverish looking friend walking clumsily towards him. He quickly jumped out of the car and rushed to his friends side, ushering him into the passenger seat, "Damnit Shawn, I knew this was a bad idea...I'm taking you home right now, and that's final!"

"No...Hospital." Shawn managed breathlessly.

Gus' concern increased tenfold when his friend uttered those words, "OK, don't worry...I'll get you there in no time. Just sit back and take it easy." He started the car and drove towards the hospital.

On their way there Shawn told him what he'd found out from the homeless man. Gus would've taken Shawn straight home after hearing the real reason they were heading to the hospital, but considering how ill his friend looked he figured taking him to a hospital may not be such a bad idea after all.

When they reached the clinic Gus helped Shawn out of the 'Blueberry', "So, what's the plan?"

"I'm gonna cause a distraction by acting all ill, so you can go take a look at the files..."

"You're gonna  _act_ ill?"

The fake psychic shot him a look, "Just remember to take note of any doctors, nurses or whatever... Who work Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays OK?"

"Fine..." Gus stayed close to his friend as they entered the clinic.

"Shawn...Gus?" Juliet called out in surprise.

Lassiter turned his attention to the pair of them, "Spencer...What the hell are you wearing?"

"I'm undercover..." He slurred feverishly, "As a sick guy..."

Juliet leaned over to Gus and whispered, "Another high fever?" To which Gus merely nodded.

"Need to get a look at those files..." Shawn continued, "The Grim Reaper only comes on Tuesdays, Wednesdays...And Fridays."

The junior detective couldn't help but notice the beads of sweat coming from the fake psychic's head, "OK Shawn, why don't you let Gus take you home and we'll..."

"No!" Shawn protested, "I'm gonna solve this case...And no ones gonna stop me!"

"...Let me finish." She scolded gently, "What I was trying to say is... Go home, get some rest and we'll bring the files over to your place once you're feeling a little better...After all, Chief Vic already said she wants you guys consulting on this case."

"She does?" Shawn and Gus exclaimed in surprise.

Juliet nodded, unable to hide the smile from her face at how much Shawn seemed to have perked up.

"OK...Has everybody lost their frickin' minds?!" Lassiter shouted out incredulously, "Spencer can barely stand, and you want to take him  _out_  of the hospital?"

"He has a point..." Juliet agreed.

"I'll be fine...I just need to sleep." Shawn protested. There was no way in hell he was going to stay at this hospital, not when his life was in so much peril.

"Well, if you're sure..." Juliet gave in, "Just remember though Shawn, if you want to look at those files..."

"I need to take it easy..." He finished the sentence for her, "I will...Thank's Jules."

* * *

"Dude turn the heating down...It's like a sauna in here!" Shawn complained as Gus drove him home.

"It's not even switched on..." Gus shot his friend a worried look, "You sound breathless."

"I know...I think it's the dust from this jacket." He took a deep painful breath, "...Makes my chest hurt."

"Take it off then..."

"But it's cold." Shawn whined through chattering teeth, although he wasted no time in taking the horrid jacket off. He suddenly turned serious, "Hey Dude, Sorry about what I said before..."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't actually think the bike accident was your fault."

Gus raised an eyebrow "OK...If that's seriously been on your mind all this time, then I'm beginning to think Lassie was right when he said you should stay in the hospital."

"Don't be ridiculous Gus," Shawn snorted, satisfied that everything was good with his friend, "Lassie's never right." He rested his head back on his seat and closed his eyes.

"We're here." Gus told him a little while later.

Shawn opened his tired eyes and wiped a shaky hand down his sweat ridden face, "I don't feel so good..." He mumbled weakly as Gus helped him out of the car and into his apartment.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Shawn's full attention was on his own breathing as Gus helped him into the apartment, the short walk leaving him breathless and increasing the pain in his chest. He did his best to mask all of this however, not wanting to give his friend any reason to take him back to the hospital, even though he was fully aware that the  _hospital_ was probably the only place he should be heading right now. Aside form breathing difficulties, he also felt incredibly weak and exhausted, his aching body and pounding headache were getting worse, he'd started to produce disgusting mucus every time he coughed (which unluckily for Shawn was becoming more frequent), he just couldn't stop shaking, and he was sweating profusely.

Noticing that Shawn was now leaning heavily against him, Gus changed his mind about taking him all the way over to the bedroom and sat his friend down on the couch instead, "Your breathing doesn't sound too good."

"I'm fine." Came the short reply.

Gus frowned and felt his friends forehead, "You're really burning up." He got the the thermometer and took Shawn's temperature, "103.8?! That's it Shawn, I'm taking you back to the hospital."

"No!" The fake psychic replied defensively, there was no way he was going back there, not without a fight, "I'm just tired..."

Gus raised an eyebrow at Shawn's overreaction,  _What's he so afraid of?_  He wondered, "What's with your sudden irrational fear of hospitals?"

"OK first of all, I have no ' _irrational fear',_ and secondly, who goes to the hospital with the flu?"

"Uh...On average, over two hundred thousand people in the United States each year alone" Gus gave him the statistics, "...Although going off the symptoms you have now, you probably have a chest infection...Maybe even pneumonia."

"I don't have pneumonia." He coughed loudly, wincing as the pain in his chest increased.

"Shawn, you can't not have an illness just because you don't want to go to the hospital." Gus sighed, "Besides, it could be walking pneumonia."

"Gus don't be ridiculous...Everyone knows pneumonia can't walk." The fake psychic rolled his eyes, "Plus, I can't get it twice."

"Dude it's not the chicken pox, and since when have you ever had pneumonia?"

"Eighth grade...Remember?" He managed through coughs.

Gus thought about that for a second, then shot his friend an exasperated look, "That was bronchitis Shawn..."

"It felt like pneumonia..." He muttered, rubbing a shaky hand down his face, "I need to sleep."

"Yup." Gus agreed.

Shawn looked down at the torn dirty clothing he'd been wearing for the past couple of days, "I should probably change my clothes too..."

Gus headed towards the wardrobe, "I'll go get you a t-shirt and some sweatpants."

Shawn stood up slowly and started to walk unsteadily towards the bedroom, wincing slightly as the pain in his chest intensified. He could feel his legs begin the buckle, but he thankfully managed reach the bed before he collapsed to the ground and drew any unnecessary attention to himself.

Gus turned to him, "How many times have I told you to quit stealing my clothes Shawn?"

"I don't know...Was I supposed to keep count?" Shawn asked innocently, somehow managing to keep the smirk from his face.

Gus chucked a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt at his friend, "Just put those on why I go get you some fever meds." He headed back out to the Blueberry, knowing full well that there'd be no fever medication in Shawn's apartment. When he returned he found his friend (now wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants) in a heap on the floor, "Dude, what happened?" He asked, putting the medication down on a side table and rushing to his aid.

"Huh...?" Shawn blinked, looking up at him in confusion.

Gus helped Shawn back up onto the bed, "Did you pass out?" He asked in concern, really not liking how dazed and pale is friend was looking.

Shawn lay down and held the covers tightly against himself, chills wrecking through his body, "Think I just stood up too quickly." He mumbled feverishly.

Gus poured him a glass of water from out of the kitchen and grabbed the fever medication from the side table, "Here, take these." He instructed, helping Shawn to lean forwards as he took the medication.

Shawn let his friend take the glass back off him and lay back down again, "Thanks Dude." He watched as Gus took the half empty glass away, and gave a heavy sigh when his friend returned with a bowl of water and a washcloth.

"Quit complaining Shawn, you know I need to keep your fever down." He wet the cloth and placed it on his friends forehead, "Try to get some sleep Dude." He added softly, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

"I think I've been poisoned." Shawn announced suddenly, trying his best to stay awake long enough to tell Gus his theory, and fighting against the tug of sleep that was pulling him closer.

"What...?" Gus could tell his friend was struggling to stay awake now.

"I think the Grim Reaper poisoned me when I was in the hospital to force me to go back there so he can kill me." Shawn slurred slightly as he tried to give as coherent an explanation as possible. His high fever and exhaustion not helping any.

"Shawn that makes absolutely no sense," Gus ignored his friends indignant huff, "Why poison you to make you go back to the hospital? He could have just killed you there and then."

"Uh..."  _Ok, he has a point,_ Shawn realised, surprised he hadn't considered that himself. It wasn't going to make him back down any however, in fact the challenge seemed to wake him up a little, "I had a ridiculously high fever remember, there were doctors and nurses all around me..."

"That's exactly my point Shawn, if there were so many people around you, how could the killer have poisoned you?"

"Dude I was totally out of it, they were all busy trying to get my fever down...Everyone was distracted, it was the perfect time to poison me." He stifled a yawn, his sudden bout of energy being short-lived.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Gus sighed, wetting the washcloth again and placing it back on his friends head, "OK then, what can I do to help?" He asked reluctantly, knowing that the only way he could get his friend to rest was by playing along.

A small tired smile appeared on the fake psychic's face, "I really need to get a look at those files Dude. If the Grim Reapers in them, I'll know it."

"Shawn I'm not leaving you alone when you're like this, and there's no way in hell you're going down to the station." Gus told his friend firmly.

"But Gus...!" He whined pathetically.

"If you want those files you're gonna have to rest, like Juliet said."

"I am resting!" He retorted stubbornly, finding it increasingly more difficult to keep his eyes open.

Gus glared at his friend, "You're doing your best  _not_  to fall asleep Shawn."

"How can I sleep when you keep shoving those things on my head?" He mumbled tiredly, his eye lids feeling heavy now, and the pull of sleep growing stronger. He rubbed his hand across his eyes in a last bid attempt to stay awake.

Gus took the washcloth from his friend's forehead and dipped it back into the water, "I already told you Shawn, I need to get your fever down." As he looked up from what he was doing, he realised that his friend had finally fallen asleep. Gus smiled slightly as he placed the wet cloth back gently on his forehead, his friend didn't seem all that restful, but at least he was getting  _some_  sleep.

* * *

The soft coaxing of his friend's voice awoke Shawn a couple of hours later, the faking psychic blinking rapidly in a bid to  _'unblur'_  his bleary eyes. Once his vision was clear enough, he realised that Woody Strode, SBPD's coroner was stood in front of his bed, smiling, with a syringe in his hand, "Am I dead...?" Shawn croaked in confusion.

"Not yet, I've just come to draw some blood so I can run a Tox Screen" Woody answered cheerfully.

A weak smile appeared on Shawn's face and he turned to his best friend, "Thanks buddy."

"Don't thank me Shawn, I'm only doing this so I can prove you wrong and finally take you to the hospital." Gus huffed.

As Woody took Shawn's arm, he couldn't help but notice the heat radiating off the younger man, "Wow, you're really hot." He leaned in closer, "And I don't just mean in an attractive way." He joked, smiling when the younger man chuckled slightly, "OK, this shouldn't hurt...Much." He winked as he drew the blood, "That should do it."

"Thanks man." Shawn wheezed, his chest feeling heavier and more painful than before.

"You should get some sleep Shawn." The coroner instructed as he put the blood sample away, "I'll get right on this...If there's poison, I'll find it."

Shawn tried to answer, but it turned into a coughing fit, pain etched across his features as he learnt forward, tissue in hand, trying to catch all the disgusting mucus.

"Shawn..." Worry was evident in Gus' voice as he held out an empty bucket in front of his friend, "Use this."

The fake psychic took the offered object, dispelling the yellowy-green mucus into it, his breathing rapid as he desperately tried to catch his breath, "Don't feel so good..." He groaned as he passed the bucket back to his friend.

"Drink this." Woody said as he took the lid off a bottle of water and held it out to Shawn, realising that the younger man was shaking too much to hold the water himself, the coroner held the bottle up to his lips, allowing the water to dispel slowly into the younger mans mouth, taking it away again when it became obvious that he'd had enough and helping him to lie back down again.

Noticing how panicked his friend looked, Shawn tried his best to muster up a reassuring smile, "I'm fine buddy." He managed shakily, his breathing sounding even worse than before.

"No you're not Shawn!" Gus snapped harshly, causing his friend flinch slightly, "I just hate seeing you so damn sick." He admitted with a sigh, wiping a hand down his face.

"I know man."

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat some more, but I've got work to do." Woody announced, making a move for the door, then turning back to Gus, "Oh, and if he drops dead while I'm gone, you know where I'll be."

"He's not gonna drop dead." Gus retorted as he saw the coroner out.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that buddy..." Shawn interjected.

"Shut up Shawn!"

Gus walked back with a thermometer, ignoring his friend's sigh, "Suck it Shawn, you're temperature's been fluctuating from the low 102's to the high 103's for the past couple of hours."

"What's with this 'fluctuating' word everybody keeps throwing around all of a sudden?" The fake psychic questioned, "It sounds like something a bird should be doing."

Gus shoved the thermometer into his friend's mouth, and waited for it to beep, "103.2..." He read aloud, somewhat absent-mindedly, "It's high, but not as bad as I was expecting considering."

"See, told you I was fine..." Shawn yawned, the overwhelming urge to sleep taking over his body once more.

"Uh-uh." Gus replied, unconvinced, watching as his friend fell into another fitful slumber.

* * *

Gus jumped up almost immediately when he heard a knock on the door, praying inwardly that it was Woody coming to tell them that Shawn's blood showed no sign of poison. After all the quicker that happened, the quicker he could get his friend to go to the hospital. Gus was unable to keep the disappointment from his face when he opened the door to find Lassiter standing there.

"I've got those files." The head detective announced as he brushed past the younger man "Is he awake?"

Gus raised an eyebrow,  _Wait...Has Lassie brought the files over JUST so he can see how Shawn's doing?_ He wondered, "Shawn's pretty out of it, I'm having trouble getting his fever down."

Lassiter's brow furrowed when he laid eyes on the fake psychic, it was unsettling to see the usually energetic younger man looking so weak and lethargic. He was drenched in his own sweat, he had a feverish look in his eyes, and he was mumbling incoherently, "Guster, I'm no doctor, but he  _really_  doesn't seem right."

"I know." Gus sighed as he filled the bowl up with more water, "I'm pretty sure he has pneumonia."

"And he's not in the hospital because...?" Lassiter did his best to keep his tone even.

Gus placed the washcloth onto his friend's forehead, "He thinks he's been poisoned."

Lassiter raised an eyebrow, "Come again?"

The younger man just shook his head, "It's a long story...That honestly doesn't make much sense, but until he knows that he hadn't been poisoned, he's refusing to go to the hospital." He glanced towards the door, "I'm waiting for Woody to get back to us with the Toxicology results."

"Guster, in the state Spencer's in right now, we could drive him to the hospital and he'd be none the wiser."

Gus thought about that for a moment, maybe Lassiter was right.

"...Not going to the hospital..." Shawn croaked weakly, "Grim Reaper..."

"Spencer don't be an idiot, you need to see a Doctor."

"Detective Lassiter..." Shawn slurred feverishly, his breathing noticeably raspy, "Are you worried about me...?"

It never ceased to amaze Lassiter how much Shawn Spencer could rile him up, regardless of the state the so-called psychic was in. The head detective held the files out to the younger man, "Just have a look through those, and let me know once you're done Spencer."

Shawn groaned tiredly, making a pathetic attempt to push the offending objects away, "Sleep..." He mumbled.

Lassiter frowned slightly and placed the files down on the bedside table, knowing that there was something seriously untoward if Shawn Spencer was feeling too ill to look through the files he'd been desperately trying to get his hands on, and a quick glance towards Gus told the head detective that he was thinking the same thing. He was snapped back from his musings however when Gus' cellphone rang, and figuring it could be Strode getting back to him with the results, he decided to stick around a little longer.

"So...What have I been poisoned with?" Shawn wheezed once Gus had finished on the phone.

"Nothing." Gus replied.

Shawn blinked in confusion, "Wait...No, that can't be right..." He winced at a sharp pain in his chest, "Tell...Him to...Run it...Again." He managed, finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe.

"Shawn,  _you_  said that if Woody can't find any poison then you'd go to the hospital." Gus reminded him, feeling uneasy at how breathless his friend was becoming.

"Actually...It was  _you_...Who said that...Gus."

"Damnit Shawn!" Gus snapped, he just wanted to get his friend to the hospital as quickly as possible.

"Spencer, are you OK?" Lassiter asked suddenly, "I looks like you're lips are starting to turn blue..."

"Can't..." The fake psychic choked, his eyes widening and legs thrashing out in a panic as he tried desperately to catch his breath, "...Breathe..."

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Oh my god!" Gus started to pant, breathing in and out through his mouth "Oh my god!"

"Damnit Guster!" Lassiter yelled, "Stop acting like you're having contractions, and pull yourself together man!"

"I'm sorry," Gus whined, sobbing loudly, "I'm a sympathetic breather."

Lassiter raised an eyebrow at that and then shook his head, "Just call an ambulance." He couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Gus, watching Shawn in this amount of distress, having such a hard time drawing a breath was unsettling enough for the head detective to watch, so he couldn't imagine what it was like for the 'psychic's' best friend.

He turned his attention to the fake psychic, resting a hand on his shoulder, "OK now Spencer, I need you to calm down." Stopping the younger man from his panicked flailing was important, after all it wasn't going to help his condition any, and through training Lassiter was able to keep his voice calm and even. Satisfied that his flailing had lessened, albeit slightly, he continued, "Now, just breathe with me."

"Can't..."

"Yes you can." The younger man's breathing was getting rapidly worse, and Lassiter knew he needed to get Shawn to breathe more evenly, "Breathe with me." He ordered firmly, a small relieved smile appearing on his face when he saw the younger mans brow furrow in concentration as he did his best to follow the head detectives breathing.

"The ambulance is on it's way." Gus announced, his voice noticeably shaky.

"That's good." Lassiter answered, "Now get over here and help Spencer to breathe."

"I can't!" He scrunched up his face and sobbed some more.

"Yes you can, just do what I'm doing." Gus watched as Lassiter helped Shawn to breathe, "Got that?" On Gus' nod the head detective stood up, "Alright, you take over here, I'll go and wait for the ambulance." He hung around for just a moment, making absolute sure that Gus was doing it right, before going to wait outside the apartment, hoping desperately that the ambulance would get there as soon as possible.

After what seemed like hours, although in reality it was only a matter of minutes, Lassiter popped his head into Shawn's bedroom, "Ambulance is here!"

* * *

"Pneumothorax?" Shawn's breathing still didn't sound too great, but there was an improvement, even if his voice was slightly muffled from the oxygen mask he was wearing, "So I _was_  poisoned!"

Gus shot his friend an exasperated look "Pneumothorax isn't a type of poison Shawn, it means your lung collapsed." Although he was pleased that his friend's condition had improved, it was still difficult to watch him lying there with wires and a tube sticking out of his chest.

"Gus don't be ridiculous, a human person's lung can't just suddenly collapse." Shawn narrowed his eyes at his friend, "C'mon son!"

"Actually, there is a condition called primary spontaneous pneumothorax, in which an healthy person's lung  _can_  collapse for no apparent reason." Dr Samuals replied.

"Really, so you're saying Gus' lung could collapse at any moment?"

"Shawn!" Gus warned.

"What the hell happened?" Henry demanded as he rushed in, giving his son a quick look over before deciding that Shawn looked a hell of a lot worse than the last time he'd saw him.

"As usual Spencer almost got himself killed due to his own stupidity." Lassiter piped up from the corner of the room.

The doctor turned to Henry, "Mr Spencer, your son suffered a secondary spontaneous pneumothorax, brought on by his pneumonia."

"Secondary?" Shawn interrupted, "How many different types of spontaneous does this collapse lung thing have?" He raised his arm to his head and groaned uncomfortably as his already high temperature started to rise again.

"Well, the two that have already been mentioned are forms of non traumatic pneumothorax," Gus explained, "then, there is also traumatic pneumothorax caused by trauma to the..."

Shawn lifted a hand to silence his friend, "Please Gus, for your own sake can you at least  _pretend_ not to know this stuff."

"You asked Shawn!" His friend huffed.

"Pneumonia?" Henry asked, ignoring their bickering, "How bad?"

"Your son's pneumonia is serious enough to warrant an hospital stay, even without the pneumothorax."

Henry wiped a hand down his face, "And the collapsed lung?"

"We've inserted a chest tube to drain the excess air," Dr Samuals replied, "which will need to remain installed for at least a day or two."

Shawn's eyes widened at that, "Wait, are you saying I could be in here for more than two days?"

The Doctor turned his attention to his patient, "Undoubtedly so."

"Well that simply won't do." Shawn pointed to the chest tube, "I'm gonna need you to remove this thing immediately."

Henry rolled his eyes, "Shawn, don't be an idiot."

"Dad tomorrow's Friday, if I stay here the Grim Reaper's gonna kill me."

"Grim Reaper?" Henry's brow furrowed in concern, "Are you feeling OK kid?"

Lassiter gave a heavy sigh, "Grim Reaper's the name of his imaginary killer."

"I didn't imagine anything!" Shawn retorted, "And he's your serial killer too!"

"No, my serial killer actually exists." Lassiter shot back, "Speaking of serial killers, I have work to do." The head detective made his way to the door.

"Lassie wait!" Shawn called out, wincing at a sudden sharp pain in his chest, "I want police protection."

"No."

"Just put a guard outside my room or something." The fake psychic pleaded, his breathing worsening slightly.

"Spencer I'm not gonna waste police resources on this little fantasy of yours."

"But what if I'm right?" Shawn shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling very hot and irritable, "Are you really willing to take that chance?"

"Yes." Lassiter replied, positive without a doubt that the 'psychic' was completely wrong about this one, "And don't try to leave here until the doctor releases you Spencer, because if you do, the Grim Reaper will be the least of your worries."

Shawn watched as the head detective left the room, and then turned his head away dejectedly, shutting his eyes tight as a wave of nausea hit him, "Don't feel so good..." He mumbled.

* * *

Shawn let out a low chesty groan and shifted restlessly, he felt hot, much too hot, as though his whole body was engulfed in flames, and the pressure on his chest was so intense it almost felt as though a giant elephant was pressing against it. He wanted nothing more than to fall back into the fitful slumber he'd awakened from, but there was something in the back of his hazy mind that was telling him he needed to wake up, something that was telling him that being asleep in the first place was a bad idea. He felt nervous...Frightened even, as though his very life was in danger, but he just couldn't quite remember why. He could hear voices, familiar voices, and they sounded concerned, which only succeeded in intensifying his own feeling of impending doom.

He tried desperately to open his eyes, but even a movement that simple was so much more difficult than it should have been. Finally, with great effort he was able to crack open one watery eye, but his vision was so blurry that he was finding it almost impossible to make out anything except a couple of moving figures in the room, and even they were just a mess of moving colours. Attempting to keep even one eye open quickly became too much for him, his eye lid felt so heavy, and he was getting a sharp pain in his head so he allowed it to close again.

Shawn opened his mouth in an attempt to communicate with the other people in the room, but all that came out was a bunch of unintelligible sounds, which only seemed to increase the level of concern in their voices. Shivers suddenly started to wreck through his body, he was cold now, freezing cold, the temperature change only helping to worsen his discomfort. His groaning grew louder than before, as his restless shifting was becoming much more pronounced. The voices sounded desperate now, and he could feel at least two sets of hands on his body, preventing his movements, which caused fear to creep up inside his confused, fevered mind.

He did his best to fight against said hands, but it was no use, he was just too weak and exhausted to do anything. He started to shout out, but like before, his words were still making absolutely no sense, in fact his voice sounded so hoarse it was almost unrecognisable, even to himself. A hand suddenly started to gently stroke his cheek in a soothing manner, it made him feel calmer, and safe. His body began to relax, and within minutes he started to drift off to sleep once again.

* * *

Shawn's eyes fluttered open, and he started to blink in a bid to get his eyes to focus on whoever was sat in the room with him, "Hey Jules." He croaked weakly when he finally realised who it was.

"Hey," Juliet smiled, placing a hand on his forehead and cringing a little with sympathy as she felt the heat that was still radiating off him, "You're fever doesn't seem to be as high as it was last night, so that's something at least."

_Last night?_  That meant it was Friday,  _I'm screwed, I am so screwed._

"How are you feeling?"

Shawn thought about that for a moment, the truth was he couldn't remember the last time he'd ever felt so ill, in fact he wasn't even sure if he ever had. His chest was killing him, in fact every single inch of his body hurt to some degree, he was completely exhausted, and his fever wasn't doing anything to help relieve his discomfort, "Like I just ran a marathon at high altitude." He answered, stifling a yawn.

"You need to sleep Shawn," She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, "you look exhausted."

"I'm Fine." He lied, knowing there was no way he could sleep, not when the murderer was so close to permanently silencing his only witness.

"Shawn, you were so ill last night that your doctor was seriously considering moving you to the ICU." She told him, "You had a ridiculously high fever and they were having a lot of trouble getting it down." She brushed the hair from his sweaty forehead, "So forgive me for doubting that you're fine."

"Finer then."

She raised an eyebrow, "Finer?"

"What, is 'Finer' not a word?" He gave her a puzzled look, "Should I have said better-er instead?"

"Try to get some sleep."

"Finer-iner-er?"

"Shawn..."

"Less crappy?"

"Shawn!"

* * *

Lassiter tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of the car impatiently as he waiting for the lights to change to green. It was getting pretty late now, and after following up on yet another lead that just ended up taking them to another dead end, Lassiter and Juliet were heading back to the station. His cellphone rang just as the lights changed, and he passed it to his partner as he drove on towards the police station.

From what the head detective could make out from Juliet's side of the conversation, he guessed it must have been the Chief, "Have they found another body?" He asked when the phone call had ended.

"Yeah, dumped in a secluded woodland area near the park." She answered.

At that, the head detective turned the car around and headed towards the location his partner had given. After about twenty minutes of so, Lassiter and Juliet pulled up to the crime scene and were greeted by a very nervous looking McNab.

"This way Detectives." The officer greeted, leading the way.

"Another homeless murder victim?" Juliet asked, as she and Lassiter followed McNab.

"Yeah, but you're really gonna wanna see this one." He told them, shining a torch into a ditch.

"What the...?" Lassiter looked down at the body in disbelief, the victim was a female, in her late twenties to early thirties, approximately 5ft 6" tall, fair hair, wearing an oversized blood soaked jacket, "Spencer was actually right about this, which means..."

"He could be in danger," Juliet looked at the time, "And visiting hours ended over a half hour ago!"

"Crap!" Lassiter rushed straight for his car and Juliet followed right behind, "Michaels, take over the crime scene!" The head detective ordered, before he and his partner got into the vehicle and drove off at full speed, siren blazing, towards the hospital.

* * *

A lopsided grin appeared on Shawn's face when he caught a glimpse of those awesome looking pineapple shoe laces again. His grin widened when he realised the doctor wearing them was walking right towards him,  _I like this guy already!_

"Hello there Mr Spencer, I'm Dr Forster and I'm going to be covering for Dr Samuals tonight." The man greeted cheerfully, "So, how are feeling?"

Shawn allowed his eyes to travel up the doctor's body, "My chest isn't hurting as..." He stopped when he reached Forster's eyes.

_Flash._

_Cold, merciless eyes._

Shawn's grin quickly disappeared, "It was you...You're the Grim Reaper!" He blurted out, "You're the serial killer who's been going around murdering all the homeless people!"

The two of them locked eyes for a moment, each waiting for the other person to make a move. It was Shawn who acted first, fumbling desperately for the call button, but it was to no avail, his illness had left him way too weak, and despite the rush of adrenaline he was now feeling, the fake psychic was no match for the doctor, who was able to easily pin him down, using just one arm.

"I really wish you hadn't have said that." Dr Forster sighed, fishing around in his pocket with his free hand and pulling out a syringe, "Now you've gone and made things a lot more complicated for me."

Shawn's eyes widened when he saw said syringe coming straight towards him, "Come on man." He pleaded helplessly, "You don't have to do this!"

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"How the hell did you manage to lose a patient?!" Lassiter was stood in in front of Shawn's empty hospital bed, yelling at the middle aged, dark haired male doctor in front of him, "What sort of hospital are you running here?"

"Detective, I understand that you're angry, but..."

"Spare me the excuses Doctor." Lassiter cut him off, turning his attention to his partner, "Have they found Samuals?"

"Not yet." Juliet answered, "Mr Spencer and Gus are on their way."

"You called his father?" Lassiter groaned.

Juliet was about to answer when one of the nurses screamed. Both detectives wasted no time in responding, each of them pulling out their guns and rushing towards the supply room that the nurse was pointing towards.

"Stand back." The head detective ordered as he approached, aiming his gun into the room, and then slowly lowering it again when he saw who it was, "Samuals...What the hell happened?"

The doctor, who had been restrained with ropes and gagged, shot the detective a look, "Et e out o here!"

Juliet quickly put her gun back into it's holster and started to untie the Doctor, starting with the gag, "What happened?"

"I didn't even see it coming." Dr Samuals sighed heavily, "I was grabbed from behind, drugged, and then apparently shoved in here."

"So, you didn't see who did this..." Lassiter was unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"Well I didn't see his face, but I know who did this."

Juliet's eyes widened in hope, "You do...How?"

"I could see his feet...It was Forster." He answered, "I'd recognise those ridiculous looking pineapple shoe laces anywhere."

* * *

A moving sensation was the first thing Shawn became aware of as he started to regain consciousness, he tried to open his eyes but they were just so damn heavy. Panic started to set in as he desperately tried to remember where he was, why he felt so crap, and why his chest hurt so much. After several minutes of trying, he finally managed to get his eyes to open, blinking rapidly so he could focus before scanning his surroundings in an attempt to jog his memory.

He was riding shotgun in an unfamiliar car that kind of smelt like hospital. As his eyes finally landed on those of his captor's, he remembered exactly what had happened, and the danger he was in, "What did you do to Dr Samuals?" He croaked, praying that his doctor was alright.

"Nothing, Samuals is fine." He felt the fake psychic's head, "Still very warm...You must rest."

Shawn raised an eyebrow at his gently touch, "Where are we going?"

"Sleep."

"Sorry Doc, no can do." He stifled a yawn, his body begging him to obey the doctors orders, "Once I'm awake there's no getting me back to sleep again."

"Try."

"So, why target homeless people?" The fake psychic didn't really expect the doctor to answer, he was just trying desperately to stay awake. The flicker of disdain that appeared on the other man's face at the mere mention of 'homeless people' did not go unnoticed.

Shawn's mind suddenly flashed back to the Chief's office.

_Shawn took a look over Lassiter's shoulder at the case file he was holding._

**_Deaths. Homeless. Organs Missing..._ **

"Organs..." Shawn mumbled, the answer slowly starting to develop in his mind, "You wanted their organs...For your own patients." The look on Dr Forster's face told Shawn that he'd hit the jackpot, "You didn't think it was right that they were walking around with perfectly good organs, while your patients were waiting for new ones, so you decided to speed the process up a little." He was on a roll now, "You started killing homeless people and stealing their organs to save the lives of your own patients."

"I knew you were really psychic!" Forster smiled, "How else could you know that I'm the Grim Reaper?" He snorted, "Ah, such a silly nickname..."

"OK, I'm confused." Shawn cut in, "What does me seeing you kill someone have to do with my psychic abilities?"

"Don't you get it Shawn? You didn't actually see me, you were _seeing_ me, psychically."

"Come again...?"

"Shawn, you were fast asleep the _whole_ time."

 _What?_ Shawn's mind went back to that night.

_Flash!_

_A female face pressed up harshly against the window._

_Flash!_

_A knife...She was being murdered._

"The lightning..." Shawn muttered to himself, _When the lightning flashed, Forster's side of the window turned into a mirror, that's why he didn't notice when I opened my eyes, because he was looking at his own reflection!_ Now everything made sense, well, almost everything...

_Flash!_

_He looked through the window, straight into cold, merciless eyes. Forster pointed at Shawn with one hand, and slid the knife in front of his throat with the other._

"Wait...If you thought I was asleep, then why did you threaten to kill me?"

"Are you talking about the whole knife-throat-slice thing?" On Shawn's nod he continued, "I wasn't threatening you Shawn, I saw you sleeping there and pretended like I had an audience. It was just in the moment, I mean, how was I supposed to know you had a gift?"

"When did you find out about my _gift_?"

"Well, I witnessed your little show at the hospital, but quite honestly I thought you were just doing a bit." He chuckled, "Can you believe that? I just assumed you were this extremely observant guy. Ridiculous theory huh?"

"Yeah..." Shawn's eyes widened, "That _is_ pretty far-fetched."

"And when you were telling Samuals that you knew who the killer was, I just figured you were all talk." He continued, "After all I was standing right there in the room, and you never said anything."

"Wait, so you're saying that you didn't know, that I _knew_ you were the killer, until I actually told you?"

"Yes." Forster confirmed.

 _Whoops..._ Shawn cringed, _My bad!_

"And that's when I started to wonder whether you were actually telling the truth about being psychic."

"But what about the attempts on my life? Someone tried to run me off the road."

"I had nothing to do with that. Although if you were unwell at the time, I would assume your fever was to blame."

Shawn was having trouble wrapping his head around all of this, how could he have been so right, yet so wrong about this whole thing? Shawn knew there was no use in dwelling on it though, the truth of the matter was, he'd messed up, and there was a good chance that it would cost him his life.

"We're almost there." Forster said suddenly, slipping his hand in his jacket pocket.

Shawn's eyes widened when Forster took out another syringe, "Wait, you're gonna kill me now?"

"No I'm not going to kill you." Forster rolled his eyes, "It's just a sedative, I can't have you seeing the location, you'll lead your friends right to us with your mind powers."

Shawn pressed up against the car door in a feeble attempt to escape, "Why can't..." He felt the needle piece his skin, "I just..." He began to feel even drowsier as the drug entered his body, "Wear a blindfold..." He mumbled, just before his world turned to black.

* * *

"Gone?" Henry demanded, "What do you mean he's gone?" He turned towards Lassiter, glaring accusingly at the head detective, "This is all your fault!"

Lassiter's eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?!"

"Shawn begged you for police protection and you didn't listen." Henry pointed towards the empty bed, "Now look what's happened!"

"Hey, I wasn't the only one who didn't listen to Spencer!" Lassiter defended himself, "No one else in this room believed him either."

"Well, nobody else in this room is head detective."

"What does me being head detective have to do with anything? You're his father," Lassiter pointed out, "and as far as the whole 'police protection' goes, if you'd have actually believed that Spencer was in any danger, you would've gone over my head, straight to the Chief."

"Hey, here's an idea." Gus suddenly spoke up, unable to keep the irritation from his voice, "Perhaps instead of arguing amongst ourselves, we could actually start looking for Shawn."

"Gus is right." Juliet agreed, "None of this is helping."

"OK." Lassiter swallowed hard, turning his attention to Dr Samuals, "In your professional opinion Doctor, how much time do we have before Spencer becomes worm food?"

"Carlton!"

"What?" He looked down at Juliet in confusion, "It's a fair question."

The doctor ran a hand down his face, "Well, assuming that Shawn isn't..."

"Already dead?" Henry asked when the doctor hesitated.

"Yes." Dr Samuals nodded, "Then taking your sons current state into account, along with the very real possibility of another pneumothorax occurring, I would say that without treatment, it's imperative that he is found well within twenty four hours if he is to have any chance of making a full recovery."

* * *

When Shawn came around he found himself in a small, windowless room, with grimy looking walls, and a hard, wet, stone floor. "Oh come on man, are these things really necessary?" Shawn asked as he noticed Forster tightening the restraints on his wrists and ankles., "You and I both know that I'm not going anywhere." He pulled at the restraints weakly, "So, what happens now?" He looked the doctor straight in the eyes, "Are you gonna kill me?"

"Shawn I've already told you, I won't kill you." Forster told him, "But I also won't help you to stay alive."

The fake psychic raised an eyebrow, "Wait...How's that different exactly?"

"Because it's the illness that will kill you, not me."

Shawn shot him an incredulous look, "So why am I here then?"

"Because I need your help again."

"You need my help again?" Shawn repeated slowly, trying to figure out what the other man was referring to.

"Yes." Forster smiled, looking quite excited, "Wait here, I have something to show you!"

Shawn looked down at his restraints as the unhinged doctor left the room, and rolled his eyes, "Really?"

Dr Forster returned a moment later, pushing a bruised and bloodied man into the room. Shawn cringed in sympathy as the man landed in a heap on the floor in front of him, the fake psychic's eyes narrowing when he realised that there was something very familiar about him...

" _You!" Shawn pointed_

" _Who...Me?" Asked the disheveled looking doctor._

" _I'm sensing a dark cloud around you." He made circular motions in the Doctor's direction, "Your girlfriend...She kicked you out, and ever since then you've been sleeping here at the hospital."_

" _Thanks, I guess I'm homeless again, now that everyone knows I've been living here!" The doctor stormed off._

Shawn's eyes widened at the realisation of what was about to happen, "No...You can't do this!"

"Of course I can Shawn, and it's all thanks to you." Forster dragged the doctor up roughly by his hair, smirking when he cried out in pain, "I may never have found out that Dr Sanders' was homeless without the help of those wonderful psychic abilities of yours."

 _This guy's insane!_ Shawn's disgust quickly turned into worry when Forster took out the knife he'd used outside the Psych office a few nights earlier. The fake psychic pulled harshly at the restraints in a desperate bid to break free. He needed to help Sanders, there was just no way he could sit back and do nothing as he witnessed another victim being stabbed to death.

"I dedicate this sacrifice to you Shawn!" Forster announced as he slashed the homeless doctor's throat.

"No!" Shawn cried out, his mind flashing back to a distant memory...

_Gus looked at the name on the window, "Psych? As in 'gotcha'?"_

" _Or." Shawn pointed out, "As in 'Psychic'."_

" _You named your fake detective agency Psych?" Gus asked incredulously, "Why don't you just name it, 'Hey, we're fooling you and the police department. Hope we don't make a mistake and someone dies because of it'."_

Shawn curled his lip in anger, "You son of a..."

"Now, now Shawn." Forster interrupted, "You're in no condition to kill anyone yourself." He grabbed Sanders' wrist and wiped the blood from the knife on the sleeve of his arm, "Don't you see, with your psychic powers and my knifemanship, we'll be unstoppable!"

"I'm not a..." Shawn began to say in his outrage, but bit his lip before he could finish the sentence.

Forster looked at him curiously, "You're not a _what_ Shawn?"

"Murderer." The fake psychic covered, "I'm not a murderer Forster, and I sure as hell ain't gonna start by murdering a bunch of vulnerable homeless people."

"They're not people!" He yelled

" _Oh my god."_ Shawn mouthed incredulously, "Seriously?"

"Why are you starting to bail on me now Shawn?" The grip on his knife tightened, "Why now?"

"Bail on you?" Shawn shook his head, "Doc, I was never with you in the first place!"

"Yes you were Shawn."

"No. I wasn't." He cringed as the pain in his chest increased.

"Then why did you assist me with Sanders' kill?"

"I didn't assist you with anything!" The fake psychic shot back, "How are you even a doctor?"

Dr Forster's face contorted in anger at that comment, "I'm a good doctor!"

"Good doctors help people, they don't kill them."

"They're not people!" Forster screamed, striking Shawn's head with the butt of his knife in a fit of rage, his eyes widening when the already weak man's body fell limp, "No..." He shook the fake psychic in an attempt to rouse him, "Shawn...Shawn wake up." He shook him harder, "Come on Shawn, please... I didn't mean to..." Forster gently touched the blood that had started to trickle down the unresponsive man's forehead, "Oh Shawn..." He frowned, "Look at what you made me do..."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Gus pulled up right behind Lassiter, and he and Henry got out of the Blueberry, following the two detectives up to the front of Forster's house. Lassiter and Juliet pulled out their weapons before she knocked on the door, they didn't really expect to find Forster or Shawn here, but they had a warrant to search the premises, and they hoped that their search would lead them to their psychic consultant.

When no one answered, Lassiter wasted no time in kicking down the door, and the two detectives made their way cautiously inside, looking in each room to make sure the place was actually empty.

The house itself had quite an hospital vibe to it. On the ground floor, as you walked through the front door, there was a living area, which had grey leather seating surrounding a medium sized mahogany coffee table, and a TV mounted on the wall over a fireplace. At the end of the room there was a set of stairs leading to the upper floor, and to the side of the stairs was a large open archway, leading into the kitchen. The kitchen/dining area was fairly small, with marble table and counter tops, two white stools, grey wooden cabinets, and shiny silver metal kitchen appliances. The first room upstairs was Forster's bedroom, which had a double bed, with crisp white sheets, a small computer desk with a grey filing cabinet besides it, and a white wooden dresser. There was also an on-suite bathroom with a toilet and a shower. The much smaller second bedroom had been converted into a study, with wooden bookshelves packed full of medical books, several small grey filing cabinets, and a wooden desk covered in papers as you enter the room. Almost every wall was painted white, and ash wooden flooring covered the whole house, aside from the stairs, which had a grey carpet running up the centre, and the bathroom, which had white floor tiles.

"All clear." Juliet announced as she exited the last room, and the four of them went off around the house in search for clues.

As Henry walked slowly around Forster's house, and carefully scanned each room, something caught his eye...

_**A sheet of paper on the desk. Names of people listed on it. Various organs wrote next to them.** _

"What is it?" Gus asked in a hushed tone, he knew that look, he saw it on Shawn's face every time he found a clue.

"Hey, I've got something!" Henry announced loudly, waiting for Lassiter and Juliet to come over, "There..." He pointed to the sheet of paper, "A list of names and organs, some of which have been ticked off."

"Let me look at that." Lassiter said, grabbing the sheet, "O'Hara, give me that file, I want to check something."

"What is it?" She asked as she handed the file over.

Lassiter didn't answer, he was too busy looking between the two items, "Look at this." He said finally, "Every name on this list that's been ticked off, has an organ wrote next to it that was missing from the victims."

"I've seen those names before..." Juliet said, rushing out of the room and heading towards the large grey filing cabinet that was sitting in the suspects bedroom. The three men approached as she started to pull out various files, throwing them onto the bed, "They're all names of Forster's patients."

"Wait...So Forster's been killing off homeless people to get organs for his own patients?" Gus asked.

"Looks that way." Lassiter handed the evidence over to his partner, "Well at least we know we're on the right track..." He added, before heading off to look for more clues.

"That's all well and good, but it still doesn't tell us where Shawn is." Henry wiped a hand down his face in frustration.

"Oh my god!" Gus' face scrunched up in a panic "Forster's gonna slice Shawn open and steal his organs!"

"Gus..." Henry tried to speak.

"He's gonna kill Shawn!" Gus continued.

"Gus..." Henry said more firmly.

"Shawn's gonna die!"

Gus!" Henry shouted, finally getting the younger mans attention.

"What?"

"You need to focus, panicking isn't gonna help Shawn any." Henry told him, "So lets carry on looking around, and see what else we can find."

Gus' face straightened suddenly, and he nodded, "Right."

"In here!" Lassiter shouted.

All three of them rushed back to the study to find Lassiter looking through one of the filing cabinets.

"What is it?" Juliet asked as she approached her partner.

"Records," Lassiter handed her a file, "of all the victims."

Henry and Gus peered over her shoulder as she flicked through the file.

"There's notes here, of any healthy organs." Gus pointed out, "He must've been using the clinic as a front to scout out any potential organ donors for his own patients..."

"Yeah, whether they wanted to donate or not." Henry added.

* * *

A moan escaped Shawn's lips as he started to regain consciousness, and he winced at the head pain. Suddenly he became aware of something being wrapped around his head, and he started to open his eyes slowly, blinking once or twice in a bid to get his eyes to focus, "I thought you weren't gonna help me." He croaked.

"Yes, with your illness, but this injury was my bad Shawn." Forster reminded him as he finished bandaging up the wound he'd caused on the fake psychic's head.

"Right..." Shawn replied, still trying to work this guy out.

"You forgive me don't you?" Forster's voice was full of desperation, "For hitting you, you forgive me right?"

Shawn raised an eyebrow, "Uh...Sure?"

"Oh thank god, I couldn't bare it if this little incident would have put a dent in our partnership."

"Yeah...About that." Shawn asked carefully, not wanting to receive another agonising blow to his head, "How exactly is our little _'partnership'_ going to work?"

"Well that's easy Shawn," Forster smiled, "You are going to psychically scout out any hard-to-spot homeless types, and then they are going to sacrifice themselves to save the lives of my patients."

"Hm...Interesting plan." Shawn replied casually, "There's just one problem though, I can't scout people out from this long of a distance dude. I need to _see_ them, _feel_ them, _smell_ them, you understand right? This place, here...Wherever we are, it's blocking all that out man." Shawn suddenly looked thoughtful, "No, this place isn't gonna cut it at all, if I'm going to help you, we're gonna have to move to a different location, but where..."

Just as Forster looked like he was about to say something, Shawn's face suddenly lit up, as though he'd just had a lightbulb moment.

"Oh...Oh, I got it!" The fake psychic exclaimed, "We should go back to the hospital, that way I'll be able to get a psychic reading on anyone coming in and out of there...And while we're at it, I guess it couldn't hurt to stick an IV line in me, and pump my body full of meds. That sounds good, right?"

"No Shawn." Forster replied, "It does not."

* * *

"Alright, listen up people!" Chief Vic got the attention of the officers and detectives in front of her, amongst them stood Lassiter, Juliet, Henry and Gus. She pointed to the whiteboard to her left, on it was a diagram showing photographs of each of the victims, with marker pen lines matching them to the photograph of the patient that most likely received their organ. To the side of the diagram, there was a photograph of Forster, and a photograph of Shawn. "We've had a breakthrough in our case." She turned to Lassiter, "Detective..."

"Right Chief." Lassiter stepped forward and pointed to the photograph of Shawn, "As I'm sure you're all aware by now, our psychic consultant, Shawn Spencer is missing, presumed captured by our serial killer." He pointed to Forster's photograph, "A witness statement led us this this man, Dr Delaney Forster, as a possible lead into Spencer's disappearance and the serial killings." He pointed to the diagram, "After a full search of Forster's house, we discovered patient files for each of his patients, all of which either were, or had been, on the organ donor list."

Juliet stepped forward, "We also found this." she held up an evidence bag, which held the list that Henry had found, "It's a list of Forster's patients, along with organs that the patients needed." She handed the evidence to one of the officers so they could pass it around, "As you can see, some of the names on this list have a tick next to them." She pointed at the photographs of Forster's patients, "These are all the patients with a tick next to their name, and each of them recently received a new organ."

Lassiter took over, "If you look at the victim files, you will notice that the organs received by Forster's patients, were missing from the victims." He held up the file he'd found, "We also found this at Forster's house, it's a record of each of the victims, and any healthy organs they have, leading us to believe that Forster was targeting homeless people so he could steal their organs, and give them to his own patients."

"Thank you Detectives." Chief Vic stepped forward, "I'm sure I don't need to remind any of you how important this case is, especially now that it's personal." She took Shawn's photograph down from the whiteboard, and held it up, "Shawn Spencer is one of our own, and right now he's sick, vulnerable, and in desperate need of medical attention."

"According to Shawn's Doctor," Juliet spoke up, "we need to find Shawn well within twenty four hours if he is to have any chance of making a full recovery."

Lassiter looked at his watch, "Right now Spencer's been missing for almost six hours, and we still have no leads to his whereabouts."

"Remember people, locating Mr Spencer is our top priority." Chief Vic told them, as she put the photograph back, "So everybody, get to work!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Shawn knew his fever was starting to rise again, he was freezing cold and shaking violently. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat he was currently restrained to, as he tried to find a position that caused his aching body the least amount of pain, but nothing seemed to help, "Is it cold in here, or is it just me?" He asked, mostly just to break the silence. Forster had been watching him pretty intently for a while now, and it was really starting to creep the fake psychic out, "Ow!" He winced, as his hand landed on a sharp, splintered area of the chair.

"What is it?" Forster asked in concern. By now, Shawn had pretty much given up on trying to work this guy out.

Shawn's eyes widened, he couldn't let Forster find out about the splintered part on his chair, after all, it could be his only means of escape, "My side, it stings a little." He half-lied, truth was, the area around his chest tube really did feel quite sore.

"Hmm...It's probably infected."

Shawn raised an eyebrow as the doctor started to inspect the area, "So...Where did you take Sanders' body earlier?"

Forster looked up, "It's definitely infected." He felt his head, "And you're burning up too...You need to rest."

"...And why were you gone so long?" He continued.

Forster sighed, "I was removing his organs."

"Where's the body now?"

"In another room, I'm going to move it later." Forster told him, "Now get some rest."

Shawn closed his eyes and waited until he could hear Forster backing away, before starting to slowly rub the rope that was bounding his wrists against the sharp section of his chair.

* * *

"So what now?" Juliet asked, as she, Henry and Gus stood around Lassiter's desk, "None of the evidence we've found so far tells us were Shawn is, and we're running out of time."

Lassiter, who was sitting behind his desk, was just about to answer when his phone started to ring, "Detective Lassiter."

"Detective, it's Dr Samuals." The doctor replied, "I'm just phoning to let you know that one of our doctors, Dr Sanders, didn't turn up to work this morning"

"Isn't it a little early to file a missing persons report?"

"Well yes, and normally I wouldn't have mentioned anything, it's just..." Samuals paused for a moment, "The other day at the hospital, Forster was there when Mr Spencer divined that Dr Sanders was homeless."

Lassiter gave a heavy sigh, "Alright, we'll be right there."

"What is it?" Juliet asked.

Lassiter hung up the phone and turned to her, "Looks like we may have another murder victim..."

* * *

Shawn waited for Forster to leave with Sanders' body before he carried on rubbing his wrist restraints against the splinted area of his chair. It took a good few minutes, but the rope finally came apart and he was able to get his hands free. After rubbing at his wrists to get the circulation flowing again, he bent down and started to untie the ropes around his ankles, wincing at the sharp pain in his side.

Shawn stood up shakily and grabbed the back of his chair to steady himself, frowning at how weak he felt. Once he thought he was ready to start moving, he left go and managed to walk a couple of steps before his legs gave in and he landed in a heap on the floor. The fake psychic shrieked out in pain, and grabbed his side, pulling his hand away when he noticed how wet and sticky the area felt, "Oh, that's not good..." He cringed as he saw the blood seeping through his hospital gown, and the way his chest tube was now sitting at an odd angle.

Pressing his hand against his side in a bid to stop the blood with one hand, and using the other hand to push himself onto his knees, Shawn slowly managed to crawl over to the nearest wall and used it as support to get himself back on his feet. Once he was standing again, he leant heavily against the wall, and used the breathing techniques that Lassiter had shown him to try and calm his fast breathing. After a moment or two he was ready to start moving again, and used the wall for support as he made his way over to the door, smiling in relief when it actually opened.

His smile quickly faltered when he was met with a set of stairs, "Seriously?!"

There was another room, just at the side of the room he'd been held in, and before making his way up the stairs, Shawn took a peek inside. The room appeared to be some sort of make-shift operating room, with a stretcher in the centre, and all sorts of medical paraphernalia lying around it, not to mention it looked much more sanitary than the room Shawn had been in, _So this must be where he takes out their organs,_ The fake psychic tried the door to see if it would open, _I wonder if there's anything in there to stop this bleeding..._ But it was no use, the door was locked.

Sighing, he slowly made his way back over to the stairs, and gripped the metal banister tight as he made his way up them, one agonisingly slow step at at a time, his protesting body forcing him to stop and take a breather every few steps. Eventually he managed to reach the top, and found himself in what appeared to be some sort of old abandoned warehouse.

By now, Shawn was shaking violently, his breathing was rapid, and he could feel his heart racing in his chest. Feeling too weak at that moment to continue moving, he allowed himself to slowly slide down the wall, and put his head between his knees as he waited for the lightheadedness and nausea to pass. When he was feeling a little better, he got himself back onto his feet, and made his way slowly towards the exit, still using the walls for support, but leaning against them more heavily now as exhaustion started to take over, and his eyes started to blur around the edges.

Shawn was feeling a lot sicker now, and could almost hear his body begging him to give up, but he just couldn't, the exit was way too close. After all this was probably going to be the only chance of escape he would get, and even if the exertion killed him, at least he'd have died trying.

A weak, lopsided grin appeared on his face as he finally reached the exit, pressing the button that controlled the door, and resting his head against the wall as he waited for it to open. He made his way unsteadily outside, his eyes widening when he realised he knew exactly where he was, it was an old warehouse, not too far from the Psych office. He and Gus had passed the place every time they'd gone to get their pineapple smoothies. Thinking about it now, considering the girl had been attacked right outside their office, it made sense that the place Forster had been holding them captive would have been close by.

He let out a frustrated groan when he suddenly realised there was no more wall to hold onto, and took a few moments to compose himself before attempting to walk again, unaided this time. For the first step or two things seemed to be going well, and he actually started to think that maybe he could do this, but then every inch of his body started to scream out in agony, and the whole world started to spin. The next thing he became aware of, was half siting, half lying on his backside. He tried to get up, but it was no use, he just didn't have to strength to do so.

Finally, conceding defeat, he lay down fully on the ground, and let his head fall to the right, his eyes suddenly narrowing when something caught his attention.

_**A cellphone lying on the ground.** _

A small relieved laugh escaped the fake psychic's mouth, and he extended his arm out as far as he could to try and reach for the phone. It took him a while, but he was finally able the grab the object. As he turned on the phone's screen he was met with a photograph of Sanders' and a woman who was presumably his wife...

" _I dedicate this sacrifice to you Shawn!" Forster announced as he slashed the homeless doctor's throat._

" _No!" Shawn cried out._

Shawn shut his eyes tight in a bid to bury that memory, and then went back to the task in hand, dialling the very first number that came to mind.

"Hello?"

Shawn smiled at the sound of his best friend's voice, "Hey buddy, You remembered to TiVo the Evil Dead right?"

"Oh my god, Shawn!" Gus' exclamation, getting everyones attention. Shawn could just about make out two or three other familiar voices in the background, "Are you alright?"

Shawn took his hand away from his side and raised an eyebrow when he noticed that something was missing, "Hm..."

"Shawn?" Gus asked in concern.

"The tube thingie's supposed to come out, right?"

"Oh my god..." His friend's voice went up an octave or two, "You removed the chest tube?!"

"No I didn't _remove_ the chest tube." Shawn rolled his eyes, "I fell over and it removed itself."

"Shawn, where are you?" The panic was unmissable in Gus' voice, the situation had now turned into a medical emergency. They needed to find Shawn, and fast.

Shawn was about to answer when he suddenly felt as though he was about to throw up. Using what little strength he had left, he managed to lean his body over slightly, before he started to dry heave violently. If there'd actually been any food in his stomach, he was positive that he would have been projectile vomiting right at that moment. He could hear his friend calling out his name, but there was no way he could answer. When the retching finally stopped, he held the phone shakily up to his ear again, "Don't...Feel...Good."

Gus didn't need to see his friend to know how sick and exhausted he was feeling, the sound of his voice spoke volumes, "Hey man, you're gonna be fine." He was trying to reassure himself just as much as Shawn, "Now, where are you?"

"Warehouse..."

"A warehouse?" Gus repeated, "Where?"

"Psych..."

"Shawn...Psych's an office, not a warehouse"

"No...Near..." Shawn managed, "Smoothies..."

"Near? Smoothies? Shawn what are you talking about?" Gus asked in confusion, "Shawn?" He asked again when his friend didn't answer, but it was no use, Shawn was no longer conscious. Gus heard a small thud as Sanders' phone fell from his friends limp grasp and landed on the ground beside him, "Shawn?!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

As Shawn started to come around he began to notice a few things, he was lying on a much softer surface than before, his side was now bandaged up, and he was met with the familiar smell of disinfectant, which could only mean one thing, he was in the hospital. Shawn was so relieved, they'd found him, he was safe now. He tried to open his eyes, but it was so hard, they were ridiculously heavy, although he wasn't too surprised about that, after all, there was no saying what concoction of drugs would be getting pumped through his body to fight the pneumonia...And whatever other diseases he'd probably contracted after being confined in _that_ unsanitary hellhole. He knew he should probably fall back to sleep, after all, ever since he'd gotten sick, all everyone had been banging on about was him _getting some rest_ , but he just couldn't resist laying his eyes on the beautiful, chocolatey goodness that was his best friend...

"You're not Gus."

Forster looked down at him, "No Shawn, I am not."

Shawn furrowed his brow in confusion, Why was Forster there? Shouldn't he be in jail or something? After all, he was a serial killer, and where was Gus, his Dad, Jules, Lassie or even a doctor who _wasn't_ a psycho-killer for that matter? If he'd been rescued and was now back in the hospital, then at least one of them should have been there, right? It didn't make any sense. Unless...He wasn't in the hospital.

But if he wasn't in the hospital, then where was he? It sure looked and smelt like one. Shawn knew that somewhere in his mind was the answer to that question, but his head was so foggy that he was having a hard time concentrating on anything. He knew he had to try though, and after a good while, a memory started to surface...

_Shawn's smile quickly faltered when he was met with a set of stairs, "Seriously?"_

_To his right he noticed there was another room, and before making his way up the stairs, Shawn took a peek inside. The room appeared to be some sort of make-shift operating room, with a gurney in the centre, and all sorts of medical paraphernalia lying around it..._

"You want my organs!" Shawn suddenly slurred out in a panic when he realised where he was, and he struggled with all of his strength to break free from his restraints. The only problem was, he wasn't actually restrained at all, and the fight he _felt_ like he was putting up, in reality, was merely subtle flailing. The truth was, his body was so weak now, that he barely had the strength to move at all.

Still, despite all that, it was apparent that the 'psychic' was becoming increasingly more distressed with the situation, "Shawn, you need to relax." Forster could see the younger man's eyes shifting between all the medical paraphernalia in the room, and it wasn't hard to determine why, "You know this is the room I use to remove their organs, don't you? You can sense it, even in your confused state." The unhinged doctor stared at him, in what could only be described as fascination, "You think I want to use your organs for my patients too, and you are correct Shawn, I do. After all, it would be wasteful not to take them, don't you agree?" He could see the 'psychic's' brow furrowing in concentration as he spoke, "But let me assure you, I will not be removing any organs while you are still alive."

Shawn blinked a few times as he tried to process what Forster was telling him, which took considerably longer than it should have done. After a while, Shawn looked up at him and asked, "Changed your mind...Gonna kill me?" The fake psychic was having trouble forming full sentences, he was starting to feel disorientated, and keeping his mind focused was becoming more and more difficult.

Forster shook his head, "Shawn, this is getting tiresome now, how many times do I have to tell you, I am not going to kill you?!" He yelled, but Shawn just stared up at him blankly. Composing himself, he continued, "besides, it's not as though I have long to wait. You're very sick Shawn, you're condition is deteriorating rapidly." He told him, "Honestly, I'd be very surprised if you even managed to make it through the night..."

Shawn's eyes narrowed, and he squinted up at the other man, as he tried to concentrate on what he was telling him. After a while, Shawn asked, "Am I dying?"

"Yes Shawn, you..."

Then all the commotion started to happen, the door was kicked open with a loud bang, new people flooded the room, a familiar voice yelled, "Hands up, where I can see them!" Followed by, "Get down on the ground!" And for a moment, Shawn wondered if those orders were for him, but when he saw Forster raise his arms in the air, and slowly start to kneel down, he realised they were not.

Suddenly, there were people all around Shawn, and he tried to shift himself away from them, unable to comprehend what was happening, and what they were planning on doing with him. A face came into view, and he squinted up at it in confusion, his very weak struggling coming to a stop, "Dad?"

Henry placed a hand on Shawn's shoulder, "Yeah kid, it's me." He gave his son's shoulder a light squeeze, "Just let the paramedics do their thing, OK?"

Shawn stared up at him and nodded his head slowly when he finally understood what his father had said.

The next familiar face to come into view was that of his best friend, and his lips curled up into a smile, "You found me."

"Yeah dude." Gus returned the smile, "It took me a while though." He admitted, "I mean, you weren't exactly being coherent over the phone, but after I finally figured out what you were trying to tell me, the creepy warehouse we pass every time we go for smoothies, sorta seemed like the most fitting place to hold someone hostage."

Shawn just stared at him blankly for a moment as the paramedics lifted him onto another gurney, then he raised a finger weakly, and looked at Gus, "I'm proud of you!"

Gus and Henry followed as the paramedics made their way out of the room with Shawn, and up the stairs. Carrying a patient up a set of stairs was always somewhat of a struggle, but they finally managed it, and just as they made their way out of the warehouse, and waled by Lassiter and Juliet, who were shoving a cuffed Forster into the back of a police vehicle, something caught Shawn's eye, "Gus!" He called out weakly, his words laced with desperation.

Gus rushed over to his friends side, "Yeah?" He asked, worry etched all over his face, "What is it?" He followed as the paramedics took the gurney towards the ambulance, and lowered his head as his friend whispered something in his ear.

As Gus listened however, the concern on his face quickly turned into an impatient glare, aimed at the exact same person he'd been worried about in the first place, "I'm not stealing another dude's shoelaces Shawn!"

Shawn looked up at his friend, eyes wide, "But, pineapples..."

"I don't care!" Gus replied, in a high pitched voice.

Shawn just tsked and looked away.

Gus tsked too, then placed a hand on his best friend's arm as the paramedics started to lift him up into the ambulance, "Feel better buddy."

* * *

Henry held his face in his hands and shook his head with a heavy sigh as Gus got up and started to pace up and down the waiting room again, for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last hour or so sine they'd been there, "Gus..." He said in an impatient tone that he usually saved for Shawn.

Gus turned to him, and then looked down at his feet, as though just realising what he'd been doing, "Right...Sorry." He said, sitting back down in his seat.

"Any news?" Juliet asked, as she and Lassiter made their way towards them.

"Not yet." Henry answered, "What about Forster?"

"He confessed to everything." Lassiter answered.

Henry noticed the head detective rub at his hand unconsciously as he said that, a smile appearing on the older man's face when he saw the bruises on Lassiter's knuckles. His only regret was not getting to rough Forster up himself.

* * *

Shawn's condition was deteriorating rapidly, and they were having a lot of trouble stabilising him. He was extremely confused and disorientated, his fever was now way past the 105 degrees mark, his heart was racing, his skin was clammy and mottled, he was suffering from severe breathlessness, and his blood pressure was dangerously low.

"Shawn?" Dr Samuals' asked suddenly when his patient became unresponsive, "Shawn?!"

"He's crashing!" A slightly younger male Doctor called out as Shawn started to go into cardiac arrest, "Code Blue!"

The doctors and nurses around him quickly removed his pillow, lowered the sides of the bed, and placed a board beneath his back.

Dr Samuals' began to administer CPR, and started compressions, "One, two, three, four, five..." He grabbed the defibrillator paddles, "Clear!" He shouted, as he shocked his patient, but there was still no heart activity. He resumed compressions, and then grabbed the defibrillator paddles again, "Clear!" Still nothing

"Come on Shawn, do not do this to me." Dr Samuals' begged, as he started the compressions again, "You can't die now, not after everything that's happened...Clear!" He yelled, shocking him again, and shutting his eyes tight when there was still no change, "Come on Shawn, please!" He started compressions again, then felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Doctor..."

Dr Samuals' knew exactly what that tone meant, they were asking him to stop, they thought his patient was a lost cause, but he couldn't give up, he wouldn't give up, "I can revive him." He insisted, grabbing the paddles, "Clear..." Still nothing.

"Dr Samuals', there's nothing more we can do."

"I just need a few more minutes." He started compressions again, much more desperately this time, "Just give me a few more minutes!"

He could feel hands pulling him away now, yet he still fought desperately against them, "Doctor, you need to stop." The younger male doctor told him gently, "He's gone..."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_Dr Samuals made his way solemnly down the long corridor to the waiting room, being met with the expectant looks of Shawn's friends and family as he approached. He shook his head sadly, this was the hardest part of being a doctor, "I'm so sorry." He consoled, as he saw the world crumbling around each of them._

_Shawn's father was in complete denial, saying the word, "No...!" repeatedly, Detective Lassiter had awkwardly placed a hand on the older man's shoulder in an effort to comfort him, the young female detective was covering her mouth and shaking her head, unable to believe that Shawn could actually be dead, and his best friend just slumped forward in his chair, sobbing quietly into his hands._

_Samuals felt a great aching in his heart as he witnessed their pain..._

"No!" Dr Samuals shouted out, shaking his head, Shawn wasn't _gone_ , not if he could help it. He broke free of the doctor's grasps and went straight back to his patient, starting compressions again, "I _said_ I can save him!" He growled, not wanting the scenario he'd just imagined to become a reality, _Come on Shawn!_ He begged inwardly, grabbing the paddles and calling out "Clear" as he shocked his patient once again.

"Damnit!" He cursed under his breath when there was still no heart activity, he was just ready to start compressions again when he heard it...A beep, and then movement on the heart monitor. Samuals breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Shawn was alive.

"You did it Doc." The younger doctor smiled, "You did it."

* * *

Lassiter walked back into the waiting room, handing Henry, Juliet and Gus a coffee. The three of them muttered their thanks and then went back to sitting in worried silence. The longer it took for them to hear anything on Shawn's condition, the more they were convinced the news couldn't be good.

All four heads shot up suddenly as Dr Samuals approached.

"How is he?" Henry wasted no time in asking.

"Your son's alive Mr Spencer." Dr Samuals replied, although from the grim expression he was wearing, they now _knew_ Shawn's condition had to be bad, "Let's talk somewhere a little more private, shall we?" He suggested softly, signalling for them to follow him.

He lead the four of them into his office, and sat behind his desk, "Please, take a seat." The four of them sat down nervously, hearts pounding.

Once again, Henry was the first person to break the silence, "How bad?"

"Mr Spencer, your son's dangerously ill, his condition is critical." Dr Samuals had spent enough time around Henry over the past couple of days to know that he'd want him to get straight to the point, no matter how bad his son's condition was, "We are doing everything we can, but I'm afraid the prognosis does not look good right now." He continued, "At some point during Shawn's illness, he developed sepsis..."

"Oh my gosh...Blood poisoning!" Gus exclaimed, burying his head into his hands, and then looking back up at the doctor, asking, "Is Shawn in the ICU?"

The doctor nodded, then went on to explain a little about sepsis, for the people in the room who weren't familiar with the condition, "Now, there are three stages of sepsis, uncomplicated, severe, and sceptic shock." He explained, "Unfortunately, by the time we got Shawn back to the hospital, the sespis had already developed into the latter of the three..."

"Meaning organ failure and low survival rate..." Gus interrupted in defeat, his voice cracking.

"I'm afraid so." Samuals sighed. "So far only Shawn's lungs have started to fail, and we are doing everything in our power to keep it that way." He told them, although, unsurprisingly, it did nothing to extinguish their concern. "We've started Shawn on an IV with fluids and an aggressive dose of antibiotics to fight the infection. Right now Shawn's on life support due to his respiratory failure, which means we've put him on a ventilator." The doctor continued, "He's running a very high fever, so we're doing our best to get his temperature down. Now, I must warn you, Shawn has already crashed once, and there's a good chance it will happen again over the course of the next few hour especially...Maybe even the next few days."

The concern they were all feeling for Shawn increased tenfold at that information.

"What's his chance of survival Doctor?" Henry asked.

"Right now it's pretty slim," He answered honestly, "but, if I've learnt anything over the past week, it's that your son's a very stubborn young man Mr Spencer, so I believe if there's anyone who can beat the odds, it's going to be him."

"When can we see Shawn?" Gus asked.

"I can take you to him now." Dr Samuals stood up, and the four of them followed him out of the room and towards the Intensive Care Unit, "Shawn's heavily sedated at the moment, so you won't be able to speak to him," He told them as they walked through the corridors, "and even when he does wake up, there's a good chance he'll be very confused and disorientated."

"So you're saying there's a chance he won't even know who we are?" Juliet asked.

"Yes, that's quite common in patients with this type of illness." The doctor confirmed, "Now, I must warn you," He began, as they reached Shawn's room, "the ICU can be an overwhelming place, but just remember, the machines hooked up to Shawn are there to help him, they're designed to keep him alive." He assured them, despite being fully aware that this probably wouldn't be the first time they'd set foot in an ICU, considering their occupations, but he also knew that the experience was very different when it was someone they knew.

Just as Dr Samauls was about to open the door to let them in, Lassiter stopped him, "I just have one question Doc, if Forster hadn't captured Shawn, would he be in a much better position right now?"

"It would have given us more chance to catch the infection earlier, so yes, there is a good chance he would be." He answered as he opened the door.

"Just as I though." Lassiter frowned as they followed the doctor inside.

Juliet gave her partner a sympathetic look, knowing just where he was going with this, "Carlton, Forster would've taken Shawn whether there was a guard outside his room or not." She told him in a hushed voiced.

"You can't know that for sure." He replied, just as quietly.

"Oh my god," Gus gasped as soon as he lay eyes on his best friend, tubes and wires coming out of him and into the beeping machines all around him, his skin looked an unhealthy colour, and a sheen of sweat covered his body. They'd known each other practically all their lives, so he'd witnessed _ill-Shawn_ plenty of times over the years, but he'd never seen him like this, and that scared him more than he could ever imagine. The warnings the doctor had given them had done nothing to prepare him for the horrific sight before him. "Shawn..."

As Gus stared in shock at his best friend, Henry wasted no time in brushing past him, straight to his sons bedside, "You really outdid yourself this time, huh kid?" He said softly, his voice cracking, although much more subtly than Gus' had. He brushed the wet hair from Shawn's sweat soaked forehead, his face creasing in worry at just how hot his son actually felt.

Juliet, like Gus, found herself unable to move due to the shocking sight before her. Never before had she seen the usually talkative and hyperactive _psychic_ detective being so quiet and still. If it wasn't for the feverish groans and uncomfortable shifting, she might have questioned whether or not he was really alive.

Lassiter hovered behind the group, just able to make out Shawn's still form. The man who he often considered to be the bane of his existence looked so vulnerable and helpless, and right at that moment, he looked just as young as he usually acted. If Lassiter had been feeling guilty before, it was nothing compared to the way he was feeling right at that moment.

"I'll give you some time alone with Shawn." Samuals told them, "Now, under the circumstances, you will obviously be able to stay with Shawn even after visiting hours have ended, although, after the initial visit, I think it would be better if just one or two of you were inside this room at a time." The doctor had no doubt in his mind over which two out of the four of them would be spending the most time at Shawn's bedside, "I'm just sorry the news couldn't have been more positive." He sighed as he left the room.

After getting over the initial shock at seeing his friend in the condition he was in, Gus finally regained the use of his legs again and was at Shawn's bedside in seconds, standing at the opposite side of the bed to where Henry was stood, and wasting no time in feeling his friend's forehead, "He feels so much hotter than he did before." Gus looked at Henry, worry etched on his face.

"I know." The older man frowned.

Gus slumped down in the chair on his side of the bed and held his friend's hand gently. The chair wasn't particularly comfortable, but he didn't care, he'd just have to suck if up, after all, there was no way he was leaving his friend's side until he was better, _You will get better Shawn, you just have to!_

As soon as Gus sat down, Juliet found that she was able to move her legs again too, and walked next to Henry, taking Shawn's other hand, "Hey Shawn," Her voice was so soft, it was barely above a whisper, a sad smile appearing on her face, "You need to get better OK? It's far too quiet without you."

Lassiter lowered his head at that, what he wouldn't give to have the fake psychic gloating at him right now, laughing and pointing, saying, _"I told you so!"_ Because he'd been right, and they'd been wrong. "I should call the Chief." The head detective spoke up suddenly, "She wanted to be kept updated on Shawn's condition." He couldn't help but feel sorry for the younger man as he took one last look at him, _Why couldn't I have just put the damn guard outside his room like he wanted!_ He berated himself as he left the ICU.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The hours after Shawn had been admitted to the ICU were some of the most harrowing Henry and Gus had ever experienced. The sheer fear they'd felt every time all of the alarms in his room had gone off and they'd watched in horror as Shawn's body had writhed and then gone ridged when his heart rate and blood pressure had dropped to alarmingly low levels. The sense of helplessness both men felt every time they'd been forced to leave his room to allow the doctors and nurses to work on Shawn when he was crashing, an event that had happened more times than either of them cared to remember, and his condition really didn't seem to be improving any either, in fact, it seemed to be getting much, much worse.

As if that wasn't enough, Henry had also been dealing with the added stress of trying to contact Shawn's mother, who appeared to have vanished from the face of the earth.

"Did you reach her?" Gus asked quietly for what felt like the thousandth time when Henry walked back into Shawn's room. He hadn't moved from his best friend's side since they'd got there, and he didn't plan on doing either. His hunger and thirst didn't matter, his stiff aching body didn't matter...Nothing mattered, except Shawn. Shawn mattered.

Henry merely responded with a shake of his head, and with a look of defeat he made his way to his spot at his son's bedside.

Gus watched the older man cringe when his aching muscles protested as he sat down in the uncomfortable hospital chair. He'd never been able to understand why the seating in hospitals were always so damn uncomfortable. It just seemed to impractical to him, especially since people spent so much time sitting in them. He was brought out of his musings however when Henry let out a loud, frustrated groan, "Are you OK Mr Spencer?"

"If he..." He closed his eyes tight, and took a deep breath, unable to say _that_ word, "Before Maddie gets here, she could never forgive..."

Gus stopped him right there, "Mrs Spencer will know you did everything you could to get in touch with her." He tried to reassure the older man, "Besides, Shawn's gonna be just fine." He kept telling himself that repeatedly, despite the fact that it was seeming more and more likely that they'd _need_ an actual miracle to happen if the fake psychic was even going to make it through the night.

Henry wanted nothing more than for Gus to be right, after all this was hardly the first time his son's life had been on the line, but Shawn had always been more or less in control before, and this time he wasn't, for once this wasn't something the kid could just talk himself out of.

"Shawn's gonna be just fine."

Henry let out a heavy sigh, as far as he was concerned there was a fine line between being positive and being delusional, and in his opinion, Gus was damn near close to crossing that _very_ fine line.

* * *

Lassiter and Juliet made their way to the ICU, it'd been several hours since the two of them had seen Shawn. They'd been called away to a crime scene shortly after the head detective had updated the Chief on their psychic consultant's condition. The crime scene turned out to be that of Dr Sanders', and although they knew full well who his killer was, they still had to follow police procedures, which had taken a while, so by the time the two of them had finished, it was early morning, which had to be a good sign, right? Considering they knew that the fake psychic had made it through the night, despite all the odds being stacked against it, so they were both feeling cautiously optimistic that he might actual pull through.

As they entered the ICU however, they were in for a shock, Shawn looked so much worse than the previous day, which was something neither of them had even thought possible. The fake psychic was shifting uncomfortably in his bed, stripped down to his underwear (which was more for dignity reasons than anything else), and packed with ice as they tried desperately to control his dangerously high fever.

"What happened?" Juliet asked as she moved straight to Shawn's side.

Gus, who had his eyes shut tight, was too busy pleading for God to save his best friend to notice that the two detectives were even there, and Henry's voice was so uncharacteristically shaky when he answered, "His fever just skyrocketed, it's not coming down..." that it was almost unrecognisable.

If they didn't get the _psychic's_ temperature down soon, He'd be in big trouble.

Lassiter just watched helplessly and unsure of what to do. He knew he should probably say something, but words of comfort just weren't his forte...And plus, this whole thing _was_ technically his fault, so he wasn't sure how kindly Henry and Gus would take to any comforting words he might actually manage to find, in fact, he wasn't even sure if he was welcome there in the first place, _Maybe I should leave..._

The head detective was about to do just that when Shawn's eyes started to open, and he began to squirm uncomfortably.

Gus wasted no time, and hit the call button immediately to alert the doctors and nurses.

Henry placed a hand on his son's head, "Hey, it's OK Kiddo..." He soothed softly, trying to calm him, "Shhhh, it's alright, you're safe now." He started to gently comb his fingers through Shawn's wet, sweat-filled hair, "You're in the hospital."

Shawn's eyes darted around the room in terror as he tried to figure out where he was, why he felt so horrible, and what the hell was happening to him. He was so confused and delirious that he didn't even recognise Gus, his Dad, Jules, or Lassie, never mind the doctors and nurses that had just walked in, and he was even more scared and confused when he realised there was something stuck down his throat. Desperate to get rid of the offending object, he started thrashing about in a panic and began pulling at the tube in a bid to take it out. Henry, Gus, and then the Doctor's and nurses grabbed at the _psychic's_ arms in a desperate bid to stop that from happening, and did their best to hold him down without causing him any harm. Even though it was incredibly easy to overpower the seriously ill patient to prevent him from removing the breathing tube, everyone involved were still very concerned as Shawn's heart monitor was going out of control because of the amount of distress he was in.

Dr Samuals' told a nurse to prepare a sedative for his patient, but in the end, the fake psychic was so weak that he fell back into unconsciousness on his own, before his doctor even had chance to administer it.

After getting Shawn as stable as they could, Dr Samuals' took Henry aside, a grim look on his face, "I was really hoping to avoid this, but I'm afraid I believe the best course of action right now would be to place Shawn into a medically induced coma."

"Nope!" Gus shook his head, overhearing what the doctor was saying "No way. Shawn only just woke up." If he was in his rational mind he would've understood why Samuals thought it was their best option, and probably would've agreed with what the doctor was suggesting, but right now his best friend in the whole world was dying, so at that moment, his mind was anything _but_ rational.

Samuals' looked over at Gus, "I understand that, but you all saw what happened when he regained consciousness, and right now Shawn really can't afford to be under such distress. Do you have any idea how close he came to crashing again? Or how disastrous it could've been if he'd managed to remove his breathing tube?" The Doctor sighed, and turned his attention back to his patient's father, "I know how hard of a decision this is to make, Mr Spencer, but I truly do believe that it'll be our best chance of saving your son."

Henry rubbed at the back on his neck as he tried to make the decision that could essentially save or end his son's life. He thought about what Madeline would do...What she'd want him to do, after all, as far as he was concerned, it wasn't right to make this sort of a decision without her, she was his mother, but the fact of the matter was, he really had no choice. He looked over at his son, his mind flashing back to how terrified Shawn had been when he'd finally woken up, seeing his son in so much distress had almost torn his heart apart...And that's how he came to his decision, "Do it."

Gus' face fell at that.

"Just...Make sure he wakes up afterwards." Henry added, almost inaudibly, hoping against hope that his decision to let the doctors put Shawn into a medically induced coma would prove to be the right one, but also being fully aware that those few stressful minutes of Shawn regaining consciousness could very well be the last time he'd ever see his son awake again.


End file.
